Child's Play
by ALEO
Summary: He was bound, he was hooded and he was captive. Cold and sharp, a knife blade was laid against his throat. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Numb3rs: Child's Play**

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

_**Spoilers**__ – Black Swan 4.13, Backscatter 2.22, One Hour 3.17. Also mention of a character from my fic "Wildfire", although it is not necessary to read that first._

**CHAPTER ONE**

-11-1000-1-10010-1100-1001-101-

There was a sudden slam of car doors followed immediately by a loud squeal of tyres from the street. The unexpected noises intruded into his thoughts. He frowned, automatically glancing up at the clock on the wall in the kitchen as he prepared their dinner. It was just after seven o'clock. He next realised that too much time had passed. Something wasn't right, it shouldn't take this long.

Standing he made his way to the door and pulled it open. Peering out into the darkness he didn't see the form of his brother as he expected. He saw the trash bin standing at the curb and that was where his brother was supposed to be. He flipped on the porch light and stepped forward, the light spilling out and illuminating the front of the house and the sidewalk most of the way to the road.

There on the edge of the concrete path was a sign that all was not well. The plastic bag from the kitchen was lying on the ground, some of the contents spilled out over the grass and path. Cautiously he glanced up and then down the sidewalk before moving forwards to make a closer inspection. The path was clear, as was the road, no traffic aside from a set of taillights just now disappearing around a corner some distance away. The road was marked with a black streak disappearing after a few yards, clear sign that a vehicle had taken off in a hurry just as he'd heard.

He refocused his attention back to the ground around the plastic bag and the scattered rubbish that had spilled out. Nothing much to go on there. He moved towards the bin and the road scanning the ground carefully before he finally saw it. There was a dark spot on the path next to a dark smear, a spot that glistened in the light.

Denying what he was seeing he nonetheless crouched and reached out with a shaking hand to dip one finger tentatively into the spot. He slowly raised the finger and took a sniff. The coppery tang of blood was all too strong. He rubbed his finger with his thumb and the resultant red smear set his conclusion in stone. It was blood, his brother's blood. He quickly looked around at the front of the house at the vehicles parked there. All was as it should be. His brother had been taken, there was no other explanation.

There was no time to waste, with speed that had moments before seemed impossible he leapt to his feet and raced back to the house. It took a moment to locate his cell. Pressing the speed dial he paced as he waited for the agent to answer.

"_Sinclair." _

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His head was killing him.

That was the first thing he noticed. Then, that it was pitch black and he was lying on his back on something cold and hard, probably concrete. The unforgiving surface was also making him uncomfortable as his position caused his hands to be crushed beneath him. He tried to adjust that, tried to pull his hands out from under him but couldn't. That revealed the next small piece of information, although as information went it was the most serious of all so far. He was bound.

He was also not alone.

All around him were whispers, comments and sounds of movement that indicated that there were quite a few others here with him. Wherever the hell here was. He shook his head trying to clear out some of the cobwebs, risking the resultant stabs of pain. As the sharp throbbing subsided he realised there had been a change. The whispers and movement around him had stopped. He was not surprised that they knew he was awake after all, his movements showing his change in consciousness would have been hard to miss.

Regretting that this wasn't some action story where the hero knew he was unconscious and was able to continue to feign that state upon waking he laid still now, waiting to see what was going to happen next. As he stopped moving something soft drifted onto his face and after his involuntary flinch he realised he had the answer to another question. The reason it was dark was because dark cloth, a bag or something like it, had been placed over his head. Concentrating he could see faint points of light through the tight weave of the fabric. But that was all.

After a few more seconds there was finally movement, someone was approaching him. A moment later there were several more footsteps as others also moved in. Unable to tell exactly who was approaching or what they were intending to do he waited, outwardly calm and relaxed. He felt anything but passive, he knew only a little of what was happening but it was more than enough to have his heart racing and his breathing harsh and a touch ragged as a result. He couldn't control the adrenalin reaction. He was bound, he was hooded and he was captive. More than enough to scare anyone, even him.

A hand suddenly grabbed the front of his shirt. Other hands reached for his shoulders and a few seconds later he was pulled up until he was sitting and held in position. Unable to see and without knowing anything useful about his immediate environment he didn't offer any resistance. A moment later he realised just how wise that decision had been. He felt someone crouch behind him and then an arm settled over his right shoulder. The next sensation raised the stakes higher. Cold and sharp, a knife blade was laid against his throat.

"Hello, old man." A voice taunted as a hand pulled at the hood over his head.

The cloth swept up and off, the sudden relatively bright light causing fingers of pain to stab deeply into his skull. He blinked after not seeing more than a silhouette of someone crouching in front of him. Screwing his eyes shut he rode out the pain before forcing them open again, willing them to adjust quickly to the light. Some more blinks and he could see again.

"This isn't him!"

The one in front of him backed off suddenly before standing and staring accusingly at the others.

For the first time the captive could see his assailants. He couldn't believe it. The one who'd spoken was perhaps all of seventeen years old and that was being generous, sixteen was probably more accurate. The boy was skinny and dressed in baggy jeans and a sweatshirt under an old jacket. In his right hand was an open switchblade. That made the tally now two knives.

Moving his gaze the captive looked at each of the boy's accomplices in turn. In the process he observed that aside from one boy in a baseball outfit, the others were all dressed similarly to the first. The closest the boys came to having 'colours' as best he could tell. A modicum of relief, they were not one of the hard-core gangs that he would have recognised instantly. That meant however that they were a complete unknown. Well, not completely, he corrected himself as he barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping. Every single one of the ten other boys was younger than the first. _He'd been taken down by kids?_

He remembered now a little of what had happened. He'd been in the house and then decided to do his bit taking out the trash from the full bin in the kitchen. It was already dark outside and he'd not seen anything untoward as he approached the trashcan already out on the sidewalk waiting the next days collection. The faint scuff behind him was all he'd heard before a heavy blow to the back of his head sent him sprawling. All he'd seen then were bright lights behind his eyes before another blow and then nothing.

There was an explanation for what had struck him, several of the boys were holding baseball bats and a third had another knife. They may all have been children ranging in age from about thirteen up to the eldest at sixteen or seventeen but there were eleven of them in total. They were also armed. Against those odds, especially in his restrained condition, he was in serious trouble. He was also at a total loss as to what possible motivation the kids could have had to attack him.

"What do you mean it isn't him?" A voice demanded from amongst the circle. "You said grab the old dude. This is the old dude."

"No it isn't." The first boy insisted. "There are two dudes that live there, father and son. This isn't the old one."

The next voice came from the as yet unseen boy holding the knife to his throat. "There were two guys there. This one was the oldest."

Listening in continued silence the captive came to the conclusion that the intended target had to have been his father. Someone had obviously staked out the house for long enough to have a general idea who lived there. Then it seemed that the order had been given for the boys to attack the eldest man. He'd unwittingly stepped outside at just the right moment. His father was away, it was just him and his brother at the house tonight, making him the eldest at the house when the boys made their move.

"Aargh!" The first boy threw his hands up in the air and paced away a few steps in obvious frustration. He turned back. "We needed the really old man. He's like a hundred. Not just old like this dude."

The hand with the switchblade flicked out at the captive, emphasising his last phrase. The boy stepped closer before coming to a halt a few steps away, staring down at the seated man. For his part the captive simply stared back, awaiting developments.

"So what do we do now?" Another voice from the circle questioned. This one cracked, both from the stress and his tender age. There was general silence in response.

"Now you let me go." The captive had decided that enough was enough as the silence lengthened; clearly the boys were at a loss. The knife against his throat pressed harder and he resisted the urge to swallow in response. The blade's pressure was firm enough that it could cut him if he moved. A moment later he realised it was too late, the boy behind him shifted and there was a sting followed by a slow, warm trickle moving down his neck. Another piece of information for his collection, the knife at his throat was very sharp.

"Ease up." The older boy said suddenly. "You've cut him."

"So?" The tone didn't quite match the uncaring word.

"He's not the right dude."

The unseen boy hesitated but eventually moved the knife away slightly. The captive could still see it hovering below his jaw but it was no longer pressing against his skin. A minor but definite improvement, he could breathe a little easier. Seeing movement in his peripheral vision he looked up as the eldest boy squatted back in front of him.

"So who are you?"

Now the captive hesitated. He'd left the house without his ID, he hardly needed to have it on him while putting the trash in the bin. He hadn't had anything else on him either, rare for him but from time to time it happened. After the long day he'd had he'd just gone inside the house and divested himself of everything, deciding to be a citizen for the few hours he'd be at the house. At this point he wasn't sure if revealing who, or rather what, he was would be wise. Not until he had more information. Perhaps just his name would suffice for now.

"My name is Don." He kept his tone bland. "Who are you?"

.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

_A/N: I should point out before we continue that this occurs between seasons four and five, hence there is no Nikki and even worse, no clearance for Charlie…_

**CHAPTER TWO**

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It was barely an hour later and the front of the Craftsman had been transformed. The multiple sets of alternating red and blue lights cast an unreal atmosphere over the street as the brilliant arc lights illuminated the entire sidewalk. Strobe flashes completed the effect as the photographers moved around taking shots from every perspective.

Professor Charles Eppes watched it all standing on the porch as the experts did their thing. He'd been to more than a few crime scenes in the past but it was never the same as seeing it from the inside and knowing the victim. He corrected himself, _he knew the person involved_, he didn't want to even consider Don as a victim.

"Charlie?"

The professor turned to find David waiting with his notebook open. He'd given his statement a while ago but now David was going over it all again after checking over the scene. Colby was moving through the area bounded by crime scene tape supervising the forensics people as they worked.

"Sorry, uh where were we?" It was just so hard to concentrate when he was worried about his brother.

"The tail-lights, Charlie. Tell me about the tail-lights."

Unconsciously he copied a gesture of his brother's, rubbing his hand down his face. "I don't know. They were tail-lights. I never saw the car."

"It was a car?" David seized on the description.

"I-I don't know." He closed his eyes and concentrated, it was important. They had been so far away but he tried. "No. Not a car, the lights were too far apart. A van, not a truck. Maybe?" He opened his eyes to see David gazing speculatively at him.

"Hang on Charlie, I've got an idea." David stepped away and snagged an agent and an LAPD officer standing around nearby. The two headed towards vehicles as David returned. "Alright Charlie, we're going to try an experiment."

Charlie watched with interest as he saw the two men climb into separate vehicles and pull away from the curb. They stopped some way down the road in a shadow cast from a large tree blocking a streetlight. David's radio chirped.

"_In position Agent Sinclair."_

"Roll one."

"_Rolling."_

Charlie watched an unlit shape pull away from the curb travelling towards the street he'd seen the suspect vehicle turn into. From this distance he wasn't sure which vehicle he was watching. Just before the corner the vehicle lights flicked on and the professor watched as it slid around the bend.

"Roll two." At David's command the second vehicle also disappeared around the corner.

"Which one, Charlie?" The agent asked after a few moments.

He considered. He knew that one was a marked police sedan, the other an FBI SUV, a Suburban like his brother's. He couldn't help but glance at the black truck sitting on the driveway, no longer glossy but covered in the regular patterning of applied white fingerprint dust. The rhythmic back and forth movements used by the forensic technician as he'd moved his brush over the polished surface was clearly defined. Charlie could calculate the exact length and timing of each stroke, how long it had taken to completely cover the large vehicle. The numbers were there, floating just above the dust, the corners, the patterns… He dragged his wandering attention back. "The first one was closest. Not the same but closest."

"Thanks guys, come on in." David radioed.

"Which one was it?" Charlie asked.

"The SUV." David looked up from making a note in his book. "So probably an SUV or a van or something like it. Did you see any vans in the area tonight?"

Shaking his head he glanced towards the garage. There were no numbers in there for him at the moment, they were all out here. "I didn't have office hours today. I was in there working from around four-thirty to the time Don arrived just after dark. He came in to let me know he'd arrived and we went straight into the house. I never saw anything."

"What about Don, did he say anything?"

"No, nothing." But then he probably wouldn't even if he'd seen something suspicious, not wanting to worry his younger brother. Sometimes he took the over protective big brother thing too far. Charlie just hoped this wasn't one of those occasions. "Did he call anything in?"

"Control reports no calls after he left the office."

The professor saw a crime scene technician approaching. The man held a coloured strip of paper in his hand. David stepped aside and the two conferred in low voices for a moment. After another notation in his book David returned.

"What is it?" Charlie demanded at the expression on the agent's face.

"They've confirmed it's probably Don's blood. The blood types match."

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The boy considered for a moment before answering his captive's question. "Call me Chief."

Don's eyebrow arched of its own accord at that and the blandness dropped from his voice although he was still careful of his tone. "Chief? I take it these are your indians then?"

There was some nervous laughter at that.

"Something like that, man."

"Why were you after my father?" Don demanded without thinking. He immediately reconsidered what he'd said and regretted confirming his relationship with the boys' target. Whatever the motivation behind this was it had clearly been aimed at his father and his unthinking words had just given them a means of leverage against Alan. He kept that realisation from his face. _Oh well, what was done was done_.

"We need to tell him something."

"It doesn't look like you were going to 'tell' him anything." Don flicked his eyes around the group before settling back on the knife in the eldest kid's grip. It definitely looked much more like they were planning on showing his father something.

The kid followed the captive's gaze then once again met his eyes. "We just wanted to scare him."

"Yeah, well you certainly would have done that." That earned him a tight smile and a calculating look.

"You don't seem so scared." The self titled Chief then said shrewdly.

"Put it this way, you've got my attention." Don fixed the boy with a look of his own. He was scared alright, only a fool wouldn't be, but knew enough about psychology to come to the conclusion that showing fear and being submissive through that fear would not be the smartest path. Effectively this group of boys was a pack that had gained strength in numbers, showing fear would play right into their hands. Packs or gangs, which he suspected they were trying hard to be, respected strength. He had to show them through his personality that he also had power. "That is not a good thing."

"Like I'm scared by you, man."

Unable to shrug Don just maintained his gaze and was rewarded by the boy squirming slightly. Okay, he'd made his point. It was time to ease up before he pushed it too far, if they felt threatened they were in a position to deal effectively with that threat. It was also time to start getting some information. "Why did you want to scare my father?"

"He's gonna tear it all down and build some centre for oldies."

Don frowned as he ran that through his mind. He knew Alan was working on a project somewhere in a run down part of Los Angeles, just where he wasn't sure. From comments his father had made over the last few months he understood it was a redevelopment of an abandoned lot and was to be a community centre of some kind. Obviously these kids had an objection. "Tear what down?"

Chief waved his knife hand in a wide arc encompassing the building they were in. The tip of the blade came perilously close to the captive's nose. "All this. This is ours, man!"

Don took a better look at his surroundings. The building was old and in a state of total disrepair. If these kids were in the habit of hanging out here then it was only a matter of time before they got seriously hurt. That corner over there looked like it could come down any time. Pieces of rusted metal lay about the walls but the centre of the old warehouse had been cleared away and decorated with some old sofas and skate ramps. The bright lights that had hurt his eyes earlier he could now see were some old sodium vapour spot lights hanging from the ceiling. He wondered how it was that lights in an abandoned building weren't drawing attention until he saw that the windows were all spray painted black. He didn't want to know how the electricity was being obtained, some illegal and highly dangerous rewiring from the nearest pole most likely.

A battered van was also parked inside the closed roller-door. That explained how the kids had managed to move him, a little thing like a driver's licence obviously didn't deter them from driving.

He closed his eyes for a moment in disbelief, unable to prevent the slight shake of his head. These kids had been prepared to kidnap his father to protest the loss of their hangout. From the looks of it they had planned to assault the older man once they had him. It was to their good fortune, and more importantly his father's, that they'd taken him instead. He opened his eyes again. "Okay, you've made your point. Time to end this."

"Do you think we've made our point?" Chief addressed his question to the group. It had been asked in all seriousness, not as a goad to incite anything.

Don looked around to gauge the response. He realised that one kid was missing, the one who'd been wearing the baseball outfit. Don hadn't noticed him leaving, but then his concentration had been directed mostly at the boy in charge. Now looking around at the others he saw that some looked unsure, others not satisfied. Grips shifted on makeshift weapons. All in all, he decided, it wasn't looking too good. "Look, you've grabbed me and by now my father will be worried sick. When you let me go I'll be able to tell him why."

It was slightly embellished truth. He didn't know how long he'd been out or how far he'd been taken, hopefully not long or far. But by now however it was certain that Charlie would have realised something was wrong and called in his team. The wheels would be turning. Alan may only just be finding out about his disappearance.

"This isn't working out right." The boy holding the knife at his throat complained.

"Maybe not." Don responded. "But you've done one thing right tonight."

"What's that?"

"You took me, not my father. If you want me to continue to look upon you all favourably you will let me go."

"Listen to him, will ya?" The one holding him called out. He tightened his grip forcing his captive's head back. "You forgetting something, Slick? We're in charge."

"I got it." Don managed. The grip loosened slightly. "So what are you going to do then? What's the new plan?"

"We make the old man promise to go away. He wants you back he'll forget his oldies centre." Chief said, the idea clearly just coming to him.

"Not smart." Don countered.

"Why not, tough-guy?"

"You up for holding me hostage? You all set up to hide out here for a few days? You think no one will notice what is going on? You think no one is looking for me?" He badgered the teenager.

"Hah! LAPD are stupid, man. They won't care for at least two days and then they'll never look for you here. We're clear across town."

_Ah, more information_. As relatively unhelpful as it was, he now knew he was nowhere near Pasadena. "48 hours is for missing people only. As soon as you call my father and let him know you are holding me and start making demands this turns into kidnapping for ransom. The cops won't be waiting two days before they start looking."

"We tell him not to call the cops."

Don shook his head. "That never works. They always call the cops."

"That gets you hurt." Chief insisted.

"Or worse." The knife pressed against his throat again, the boy trying and almost succeeding to sound determined.

Which all just went to remind him it didn't matter how young the kid with the knife was, it was still a serious threat and had to be treated accordingly. Don decided to add another point. "You're hiding out in the very building you want my father to leave alone. You don't think the cops will think to check it out first?"

The kid's mouth opened then snapped closed. He obviously hadn't considered that. Don avoided looking at the van, he didn't want to give them any ideas about moving him if he hadn't already.

Chief looked around at his 'indians'. He turned back to their captive. "So we let your old man stew for a while."

"Then what?"

"We let you go with our message."

"That won't work!" The boy behind Don argued back. "We let him go we got no leverage."

"That was the original plan. We weren't going to have any leverage then either after we let him go."

"But that was the old man himself, he wasn't going to forget, not after we'd finished with him. How do we know he even cares about this dude?"

The group of kids suddenly erupted into a heated argument. Don could only sit and hope that the one behind him didn't forget what he was doing and move his right hand too far or in the wrong direction. That would end badly for one federal agent.

.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

**CHAPTER THREE**

-11-1000-1-10010-1100-1001-101-

Charlie took David's announcement that the blood was Don's type in stride. DNA would take several days to come back but the odds were clearly in favour of it being Don's blood. The numbers once again threatened to take over as he started to calculate the exact odds but he pushed them away as another calculation intruded. "But there's not enough is there?"

"Enough for what Charlie?" David was puzzled at Charlie's hopeful tone.

"Enough for him to be badly hurt."

David saw the need and considered his answer carefully. A large amount of blood would have pointed obviously to a serious injury but a small amount wasn't as conclusive either way. He could think of many ways for someone to be seriously harmed without spilling much blood. He wiped that from his thoughts and tried to sound convincing. "If you heard nothing then he was taken by surprise and it wouldn't have taken too much to bring him down."

"Not Don, he-" Charlie protested. His brother was too careful to be taken unawares.

"No Charlie. He was tired, raid days always take it out of us with the early start." David shook his head as he interrupted the other. Having reminded himself of their start at 3am this morning to wrap up the case he had to stifle a yawn. It wasn't really all that late but it sure felt that way. Now it was David whose thoughts were wandering and he dragged himself back on track. "Plus he feels safe here. He would have let his guard down, any one of us can be taken by surprise." It was additional evidence to his argument that Don had left all of his kit inside on the table inside the door. Don had obviously taken off his gun and handcuffs after arriving at the house. It was all still sitting where the senior agent had left them, soon to be taken away with all the other evidence.

Reluctantly the younger man nodded. Don had been tired, their case load was heavy. Even without his clearance he knew that much, the team had been expected to handle the same number of cases even with their reduced strength. Don, David and Colby had been run ragged lately whilst waiting for Megan's replacement to be decided. It wouldn't be that way for much longer, the latest from the bureau had the replacement as a rookie fresh out of the Academy and apparently a former LAPD officer. The dinner tonight was to help celebrate the end another case and the pending increase in team size. He looked back at David as the agent continued.

"There's no sign of any struggle so whatever happened was quick. Since they've taken him they must want Don alive and would have only done what it took to subdue him." David almost convinced himself, he just hoped it was true. It took a desperate individual indeed to take on an agent on his home turf, and an even more desperate individual to go even further and kidnap that agent.

"I guess you're right. He's gonna be alright." Charlie said mostly talking to himself. His eyes suddenly fixed on David's. "What are you working on that someone would do this?"

"Charlie, you know I can't-" David started. Their latest case had been classified as were most of the others still pending.

Not for the first time, on one level anyway, Charlie regretted losing his clearance. He still did not regret doing what he did. With an effort he focused his wandering thoughts. "If there is anything I can do, let me know?" He hated the tone of desperation that crept into his voice.

"I will." He'd been about to say _'I can't'_ but amended it. He'd be making his report to ADIC Wright shortly and would ask to have Charlie brought onboard. Although what exactly the math professor could calculate he had no real idea. Their current case was all but wrapped up, all the players in custody thanks to the raids. He didn't see how it could relate to Don's kidnapping. They really didn't have much to go on at all. Abruptly he realised something, he'd been here within a quarter hour of Charlie's panicked call. "Charlie, have you told your father yet?"

Charlie nodded. It had been his second call whilst waiting for David to arrive. "He's taking the next flight back."

"Give me the flight number and I'll have someone meet him at the airport."

"No need, he left his car there." Charlie answered automatically. He once again sent his gaze roving over the crime scene that was his front yard. He was hoping for one of the techs to have an 'eureka' moment but it was not to be, some were actually packing up having done all they could here. More work would be done back at the forensics labs in the Field Office.

"Charlie," David started kindly. "Go in. I'll have someone stay with you. I'm going to get some equipment sent over, it should be here in an hour. Do you understand?"

The implications sank in immediately. They were going to set up recording equipment in case whoever had Don called the house.

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Eventually the group wound down with Don learning some points in the process, including the name of the boy still holding the knife against his throat, Hector. It seemed that Hector and Chief were the two top dogs in this group. Unusually the group of boys seemed to run on basic democratic principals unlike many gangs that Don had dealt with over the years.

He'd also confirmed from they way they were arguing that this group of kids were not hardened gang-bangers as he'd first feared. It seemed that this group was the entire gang. That was not to say that they weren't a serious threat, they were hardly a scout troop, but at least they hadn't shown signs of having any firearms nor did they look like they'd ever killed before. Despite their youth he was under no delusion that they couldn't kill if they put their minds to it, other kids in other gangs were well on that path by this age. He actually suspected that their planned attack on his father was their first serious foray into criminal activity.

From the substance of the argument itself he concluded that they were determined to fight in order to protect their hangout from redevelopment. Somehow they'd identified the planner behind the project and found out where he lived. They had cobbled together a plan with a little research and had leapt into action before thinking it through thoroughly. They clearly hadn't prepared for contingencies. Now that their plans had gone awry they were lost for what to do next.

It had also shown that the group was split in what they wanted to do. Some wanted to hold him, others wanted to do to him what they'd planned to do to his father and then let him go. Others were undecided. Some rather wild proposals had also been thrown into mix. Even though the group had now fallen silent a solution had not been reached. Depending on how one considered it, that was fortunate or unfortunate. Don wasn't decided on that point.

"Alright." Don said firmly. Perhaps a more direct approach was needed, some information sent their way. "I think this has gone on long enough. I've already told you that you've made your point. I'll pass it on. But this ends now before it gets too heavy for you to handle." His words fell into the silence before it was broken by Chief.

"What do you mean by that?"

Taking a deep breath Don made his move. "Did any of you guys happen to check out my ride before you clobbered me?"

The black SUV had been parked on the driveway out the front of the house in his usual spot. The kids that had attacked him could hardly have missed it. He had a fair idea that more than one or two kids had been involved in attacking him at the house. They'd had to move him after knocking him out and he was no lightweight even if he was slightly shorter than the average height. He had no way of telling exactly how many of the boys had been there, having seen nothing at the time, but Chief obviously hadn't participated and their van wasn't big enough for all of them and a captive.

"That was yours? Cool truck." A voice from the circle supplied.

He'd been reasonably sure that the large, glossy black Suburban would have drawn the attention of some of his attackers. Don looked first to that boy and then around the group before he saw a different face suddenly freeze. A pair of eyes found his and suddenly widened. He was a little shocked to realise that this kid was one of the youngest there, that he'd been directly involved in the kidnapping.

"Government plates." The kid said quietly.

"What?" Hector demanded.

"It had, umm," the kid started to repeat himself but hesitated. He clearly didn't like what he was about to say.

"Jorge, what?"

"It had government plates." Jorge finished in a rush.

"That's right." Don confirmed. It was time, he just hoped he was making the right move. "You boys have bitten off a bit more than you bargained for. My name is Special Agent Eppes. I'm with the FBI."

Hector suddenly pushed him forward then his feet scrabbled for purchase as he forced himself away from his captive as quickly as he could manage. Don was able to quickly adjust his balance to maintain his seated position without the support Hector had provided. He watched as Chief leaped up and also rapidly backed up a few steps as if Don had suddenly sprouted horns. Perhaps he just had, figuratively if not literally. They'd been barely prepared to take on an old man, now they had a federal agent to deal with. It was also a sign of their youth and inexperience that they simply took his word, not requiring more proof of his identity than a twelve-year-old's recognition of the plates on his SUV.

"FBI?" Hector said hesitantly, clearly he didn't want it to be true. He held up his knife, the red smeared along the edge of the blade obvious in the light. "I cut a fed?"

Now that Hector was in sight the agent saw that he was not much younger than Chief. Don kept a sharp eye on him and tried to also keep an eye on the other two knives. "Yeah, you cut a fed. Like I said boys, time to end this before it gets too heavy."

"Oh, man! It's already too heavy. Man, oh man." Chief was pacing around in tight circles, hands on his head alternately scratching at his scalp and grabbing fistfuls of hair.

"Then lighten the load. Cut me loose." He started to get his feet under him intending to stand but suddenly froze as Chief stopped pacing and advanced on the agent, knife raised.

"Yeah, gotta cut you loose."

Don kept his face calm and impassive refusing to flinch. Eying the knife he suddenly realised that his term to 'cut him loose' could mean something other than what he had intended.

"No!" It was Hector, suddenly moving forward and blocking Chief's path. "We can't. We let him go the cops are gonna be all over us. Juvie. I don't want to go to juvie."

"So whaddya suggest?" Chief fired back.

This confirmed a niggling suspicion that Don had formed during the kid's argument earlier, the relationship between Hector and Chief was not completely harmonious. They were possibly heading for a leadership struggle. Unfortunately Hector was also recovering all too rapidly from the shock that their prisoner was an FBI agent.

"I don't know." Hector finally said.

As Don saw it their options were limited, hold him, kill him or let him go. The only problem was he had no way of knowing how to effectively reason with his captors, to make them see the real picture. He'd not dealt with kids before, not like this. Not where they had the upper hand directly over him. He'd tried to regain some power by identifying himself. It had almost seemed to work but now perhaps it was backfiring on him. Now they were scared and likely to do almost anything. He decided not to try and stand again just at the moment, the last thing he wanted to do was spook them.

"Boys, calm down." Don said in his best approximation of a soothing, fatherly tone. "It will all work out. It's not too bad. You didn't know who I was."

He pushed down the sudden flare of anger his own words had generated for himself. As he'd told them earlier they'd done one thing right this evening, they'd taken him not his father. If Alan had been captive he would not have shown these boys any mercy once he'd found them. Adult charges for the lot of them. But since he was here and not his father he was prepared to be lenient. He also pushed away thoughts of what they boys had intended for his father. Another point of anger and another unneeded distraction at this point.

"Yeah, but now we know. We're holding us a fed and that's heavy, man." Chief summed up.

"Yes it is. So the sooner you let me go the better." He shot a significant glance at Hector only to see that the boy was holding the knife a little too firmly as if he had plans to use it. He made an offer. "Maybe no juvie at all."

"How's that?"

"You didn't know who I was when this started. That goes in your favour. Plus I got pull, kids. I know people at the DA's office. If this ends now and peaceably I can help."

The expressions on both Hector's and Chief's faces suddenly tightened and Don realised he'd said the wrong thing. They'd both reacted at the description 'kids', obviously a bad choice of words. He was dealing with children who thought they were adults, kids who wanted to move in an adult world without realising that it was anything but child's play.

"You just think we're some snotty nosed brats, don't cha?"

Don now had to flinch back at the knife that was suddenly thrust under his nose by Hector. The two boys that before had seemed almost opposed were now united as one, not to be outdone Chief's blade had also been thrust forward.

"Hey, hey! Easy now." Don slowly rebalanced himself as the knives held position, not so easy with his hands bound behind him. "I didn't mean it like that."

"You think we can't handle ourselves. That we can't handle you!" Chief added his two cents.

"Not at all. You showed that you can knock me out, drag me across town and hold me prisoner on your turf. I know you can handle yourselves. You've proven that." Don argued back, he had to let them regain the face they obviously felt he'd tried to take from them. It seemed to work, he could have sworn they both physically puffed themselves up slightly, their egos stroked the right way.

"That's right. We took down a fed. We're in charge here." Chief asserted. It earned him a ragged half cheer from the rest of the group, still maintaining their circle.

The knives withdrew. "Alright. You're the Chief, you're in charge. What now?" Don asked, throwing the ball firmly back into the boy's court. There was a long silence before the boy came to a decision.

"We tie you up more to keep you safe while we think. That's what."

The agent was not happy at that outcome. But it hardly mattered what made him happy at the moment, there was nothing he could do about it anyway. He made no further protest as a boy darted off before returning with some more rope. The play had been made, he just had to wait and see what eventuated as a result. At least it appeared the boys were prepared to discuss the situation and move slowly now rather than leap into action. He was made to lie down again as his ankles were bound together, the knife back at his throat to ensure his cooperation. Then the hood went back over his head and finally he heard the group moving away. Faint murmurs from a distance confirmed that they were having a meeting to decide on their next move.

For a bunch of kids they actually weren't doing all that badly in keeping a trained federal agent under control. Don had to give them that.

.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

**CHAPTER FOUR**

-100-1-10110-1001-100-

David snatched at the phone ringing on his belt as he drove back to the Field Office. He'd finished supervising the clean up of the scene which had taken a while longer than expected, with the forensics team double and triple checking everything. Long enough in fact for the agent with the recording equipment to have arrived and be set up. Glancing at the clock on his dash he wasn't surprised to see that it was well on the way to eleven o'clock. "Sinclair."

"_Agent, Control."_ The caller identified. _"We've received a call regarding Agent Eppes."_

David gripped the phone tightly, this could mean anything. He abruptly swerved out of his lane ignoring the angry blares of horns and pulled over, he needed to concentrate. With equal parts trepidation and impatience he demanded: "What was the message?"

"_No message, Agent. The caller wanted to see if we have a Special Agent Don Eppes working from this office."_

"And?" He prompted interrupting the operator, now wholly impatient.

"_We confirmed it then the caller hung up."_

David was puzzled. The coincidence suggested that it was no coincidence at all. Why would someone ring the Field Office to find out if Don Eppes was an agent there, unless… He frowned. That didn't make any sense. Whoever had snatched Don had snatched him for a reason. This inquiry made it sound like they didn't know who they'd taken, had since discovered who they held and were now trying to have it confirmed. "Play it."

"_Stand-by." _The operator worked at his keyboard for a moment._ "Coming through now."_

There was a ring tone and then a female voice:_ "Federal Bureau of Investigation, Los Angeles Field Office. This line is recorded. How may I direct your call?"_

"_Is this the FBI?"_ The recorded voice queried as if doubting the operator.

David listened closely and decided that it was an older male, the voice cultured but with no special accent that he could detect. The techs would be working on it he knew.

"_Los Angeles Field Office, how may I direct your call?" _The operator repeated patiently.

"_Are you able to tell me if a Special Agent Don Eppes works there?"_

"_Special Agent Eppes is based at this office."_ The Control operator responded then hesitated. David had alerted them to the situation immediately after Charlie's call. A BOLO had gone out and all agents and LAPD officers on shift were on alert for any mention of the missing agent, as were all the emergency call takers from 911 to Control. Then the operator continued, having been trained to deal with this type of call the pause was barely noticeable. Her next words were carefully neutral, _"What is your message?"_

"_No, no message. Thank-you."_ The recording ended with the tone of the disconnected call.

"_That's it, Agent."_ The operator advised. _"The recording has been sent to voice analysis."_

"Did you get a trace on it?"

"_The call came from a landline. We're in contact with the phone companies now to get the address."_

That would take time but there was nothing he could do about it. Each call that came into Control he knew was automatically identified, the number flashing up on their screen during the call. That was only the first step. Unfortunately the Field Office didn't have the same arrangements with the phone companies as did the 911 system. There the numbers came up on the operator's screens with the address attached. When it came to the Federal Government however the phone companies were a little less cooperative. Calls into Control were flagged with the originating number and recorded, but not actually traced unless prearranged. The system was actually little better than the one most people had at home, their phones displaying the incoming caller ID. To actually locate the address of the landline the FBI was forced to contact the owning phone company directly. The companies were notorious for claiming privacy issues and usually demanded subpoenas before any information was provided. David had to let that go for now, there were others that were already working on it.

"Call me the moment you have it." David demanded. "And I want the next call traced."

"_Already on it, Agent, arrangements are being made now. We'll notify you of the address when we get it. ADIC Wright is preparing a warrant. SWAT have been authorised and are standing by."_ The operator reported.

David was not surprised that the Assistant Director in Charge already knew of this latest development. David had already briefed up on all that he had up to the moment he'd left Charlie's. Wright would be closely supervising this case as it was taking precedence over anything else at the moment. Most likely a judge was waiting at the building prepared to sign the warrant the moment the address came through. He would also be able to assist with the subpoenas to the phone companies if they couldn't otherwise be convinced to cooperate. When it came to Federal Agents in danger the DA's office could move quickly to arrange a Federal Judge.

He remained silent, parked at the side of the road for a moment longer thinking it through. It seemed Don had been taken by someone who hadn't known who he was at the moment of the snatch. The logical conclusion came quickly to mind, _someone else may have been the target_.

"Agent Eppes may not have been the target. Alan Eppes is flying in late tonight, check the airlines and have agents meet him at the airport. Let me know who's going out so I can brief them. I'm headed back to the house."

"_Received." _Control responded smoothly. _"Rolling back-up for your location."_

David snapped his phone closed. With a squeal of tyres he pulled across the flow of traffic in a hasty U-turn, noticing the other cars that spun out to avoid his abrupt manoeuvre only as obstacles to dodge around. He pressed the gas pedal as hard as he could, heading back to Charlie's house. He spared a moment to snap on the lights and siren before he dialled the agent at the house.

As he drove he wondered on the use of a landline instead of a disposable cell. The whole thing was now sounding like a mistake, like the kidnapper was not prepared for what had happened. Maybe there hadn't even been a specific target after all. Maybe it had been completely random, a man simply snatched off the street for who knew what reason. With his ID left at the house either Don had been recognised after the fact or he had told his captor who he was leading to the phone call to the office. David shook his head in frustration, the whole thing was just too strange. There were too many possibilities and nothing much on which to base theories.

For the moment he would beef up security at the house and bring Charlie back the Field Office with him for safety. They would divert the landline so any calls came in to the office rather than the house. The kidnapper, if he ever called to speak with Don's family, would never know the difference.

-100-1111-1110-

It was some time later that the van returned, the roller-door rattling up alerted him. During the silence after the kids had finished their group discussion and Don had not heard anyone approach he'd tried to worm his way across the floor. Everything had gone well for the first couple of feet until he was pulled up by a jerk on his arms. It had taken a few moments to figure out that it wasn't a kid pulling back on him but that he was secured to something. Some more feeling around and he felt the length of rope from his hands to a metal ring embedded in the floor. He had lain back in frustration, hearing a snicker in the background. No wonder the kids had left him virtually alone. There was no knot, that must be somewhere in the mass of rope about his wrists where he couldn't hope to work on it. Now he twisted around to face the sound of the roller door as it moved back downwards.

Car doors opened and closed and footsteps approached. They stopped some distance away and there was a brief murmur of conversation, too soft for him to make out. Finally there was the sound of one person moving his way. The footfalls stopped next to him as he waited, still lying uncomfortably on his side on the increasingly hard, and cold, concrete. He heard cloth moving on cloth and he figured that the person was kneeling or crouching beside him.

"Agent?" A gentle male voice queried softly.

Don raised his head slightly but was a touch hesitant about replying, not sure what to make of this development. The voice had been that of an adult, perhaps even a middle aged man.

"Agent, I'm going to take the hood off so we can talk properly."

The cloth over his face moved as the unseen person took hold of the hood and pulled gently. Once again he had to blink against the bright light, trying to make his eyes adjust. As the spots faded he stared up at the newcomer.

The man was at least in his fifties, probably more like late fifties, with grey hair and glasses completing the picture. He was far older than anyone that Don had expected to see associated with the group of kids. He took in the man's clothing and experienced another surprise of the evening. The man was a priest, the dark shirt, dark trouser combination under a long coat were relatively non-descript but the white dog collar signified the man's calling.

Before he got his hopes up too high however Don took a precautionary look around the warehouse, seeing as he had expected one of the kids, Chief, standing between them and the van watching them. It looked like the boy was giving them the semblance of privacy by keeping his distance. The agent could see the others gathered near the roller door.

"Around here they call me Father Mike. If I help you up do you think you can sit, Agent?"

Don dragged his attention back to the priest. "Untie me, Father."

"I'm sorry, my son. I can't do that."

"What?" The agent fought to keep his voice down.

"Here, let me help you." The priest leant over and helped the agent up to an awkward sitting position.

Don decided to try again. "If you untie me I can sit a lot easier." His legs were skewed uncomfortably sideways, tied at the ankles it wasn't easy to sit on a flat, level surface such as a floor.

The older man put a hand on the rope at the agent's ankles and turned a questioning look at Don's young captor. The boy shook his head and the priest removed his hand.

"I'm sorry." Father Mike apologised again.

"Is he threatening you?" He looked again at Chief and then at the priest. There were no weapons in evidence and the older man did not seem to be acting as if he was under duress. He was too calm and collected for that. "He has a knife."

"Yes, he has shown it to me. But I am not being threatened." The priest read the puzzled expression on the agent's face and tried to explain. "I'm here in a neutral capacity. Kind of like the Red Cross inspecting prisoners held by guerrillas."

"This is hardly a third world country, Father." Don immediately countered. He jerked his chin at the gathered kids. "There aren't ten or eleven guerrillas over there with AK-47's ensuring you don't free the prisoner."

"No. Just ten or eleven boys worried about what they have done."

Not seeing the problem the agent continued. "You clearly know who I am so you know what is happening here."

"Yes, Agent. I have contacted your office and confirmed who you are."

Don hadn't expected that and shot a concerned look at the boy. He lowered his voice. "Does he know that?"

"Yes."

"What did you tell them?"

"Your office? Nothing." The priest nodded at Chief. "He is not ready to speak to them."

Don thought that through for a moment, deciding that it was a bonus for him that the call had been made even if there had been no demands. He had no idea what his team were making of his situation but if a call had come in asking about him they would be sure that something untoward had definitely occurred. There would be no way that this could be written off as him taking a sudden uncharacteristic walk in the dark. This call would accelerate the efforts to find him.

"If you are not under duress you can untie me and help me get out of here." He tried again.

The priest sighed. "I would if I could, Agent. He has come to me under the sanctity of the Confessional seeking my advice. I have been allowed to come and see to your welfare but only under the strict conditions that I don't interfere directly with what is happening here. I am not under duress in the way that you mean but I have laws that I must abide by."

"The law says that you will be an accessory if you don't help me." Don stated.

"I'm operating under God's laws, my son. I do plan to intercede on your behalf as best I can."

"Do you know what they intended to do, what they may still intend to do to me?" Don stubbornly persisted. If the man was going to intercede for him then as far as he was concerned untying him fitted that bill.

"Yes. He has told me that."

The priest's answer was a surprise, interrupting the flow of his argument. He hadn't really expected such a direct answer. Don thought that things said under the conditions of the Confessional were sacrosanct. Then again, as he was the subject of that conversation and the priest was still claiming to be under that umbrella perhaps it made a kind of sense. He got back to the matter at hand.

"But you won't untie me."

"I can't. I have spent years building up trust in this neighbourhood, trust that has resulted in him coming to me for advice before they did anything foolish. I am not prepared to destroy that so easily."

"Easily?"

"Son," the priest placed a restraining hand on the agent's shoulder to prevent the argument he could see coming. "I am sure I can help you without destroying what I have built here."

Don opened his mouth but the priest leaned closer, his voice dropping further.

"I will not let them harm you. You just need to trust me and give me a little time."

Trusting the priest he wasn't so sure of without knowing the man. But the man's comment just now gave him a degree of hope. _Beggars can't be choosers_. Don would have to take what help he could get. That the kids had gone to the priest indicated that he was respected and they would likely take notice of whatever he told them. Father Mike could act as a go-between. Don took a deep, calming breath as he changed tactics. "What advice have you given him?"

"That they must let you go."

"But?" It hadn't been spoken but he'd sensed the word hanging at the end of the priest's sentence.

Father Mike regarded the boy for a moment. "He is afraid of the consequences if they do."

"There are consequences if they don't."

"Indeed. I have spent a fair deal of time trying to convince him of that and I fear I have put him in a quandary. He is confused as to his best path."

"I have already tried to explain to them that things would be easier if they simply let me go before this drags on too much longer."

"I have told him the same thing. He is afraid now that he knows you are a federal agent."

"Did he tell you what he had originally planned, Father?" Don demanded in rising frustration, his tone was becoming increasingly clipped and hard as he tried to make the man understand the seriousness of the situation. "To kidnap and assault my father, a man older than yourself."

"Yes, he did. That is matter between him and God." The priest said sadly, shaking his head and glancing again at the kid. He turned back to the agent. "He has said that you've told him he was fortunate that they took you by mistake. He is not so sure."

"I am. If they had taken my father I would have ensured that the full force of the law was brought against them." Don said firmly. He continued, "Father, I am prepared however, to let some things slide where it comes to me. If this ends now I will leave this as what it was, a simple assault and kidnapping dropping the federal agent side of things." That was an extra circumstance of aggravation guaranteeing jail time regardless of the young age of the main offenders. Leaving it as a simple kidnapping allowed for the possibility of non-custodial sentences.

"That sounds fair." Father Mike cocked his head to one side as he gazed thoughtfully at the captive. "I'm a little surprised, Agent. I thought that in your position you would have promised to let them go scot-free if they released you."

"I'm not going to make any promises I can't keep." Don replied.

The idea was actually extremely tempting as he believed it would work on these kids. But he just couldn't do it, not just to save himself. It would very quickly get around that he wouldn't keep his word putting at risk future negotiations with offenders to save other lives. There had been times when his reputation as a straight player had convinced the otherwise committed. Most recently there would have been a smoking crater in downtown LA if he'd lost that trust which had given him the ability to talk an offender armed with pipe bombs out of detonating them in a bank just to prove a point. The potential waste of life had sickened him. Megan had been surprised by his choice of tactics there, telling the unadulterated and blunt truth and thus gaining the offender's surrender.

The other nodded. "That's similar to the position I find myself in."

The agent gave that a few seconds thought and decided that perhaps the priest was right. He continued. "But the longer that this goes on for, now that they know who I am, the harder it will be for me to convince the DA to go easy."

The older man nodded and made as if to stand. "I will pass on your offer. Is there anything I can do for you?"

_Aside from the obvious?_ Don kept that to himself, despite his frustration he knew the man was trying and that he was here at all was of major assistance. He suddenly shivered as the chill of the concrete and the cool night suddenly asserted itself. He'd gone outside with the bag of trash in just his light business shirt and suit pants not intending to spend so much time out of the warm Craftsman house. It wasn't winter but the evenings were cool. "Something warm perhaps?"

The man smiled. "That, I should be able to manage without too much trouble. Give me a moment."

.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

**CHAPTER FIVE**

-1-1100-1-1110-

The flight had been interminable. The false cheerfulness of the airline staff served only to grate on his nerves as the miles crawled past. Alan found himself becoming short with them, _no he didn't want a coffee/napkin/snack_. He wanted his son back, wanted Don to be waiting for him at the airport. It didn't help any that the air phones on the flight had been down, he was out of contact and there was nothing he could do about it for the scheduled hour and thirty minutes of the flight. He fidgeted and tried hard to control himself. These days a nervous traveller could be regarded as something far more sinister.

No matter how often he checked the in-flight display he couldn't make the plane move any faster. Why did he have to be so far away from town when this had happened? He'd been incredibly fortunate to have been able to get a seat on the flight and not be told to wait until morning. There was no way that was going to happen, he'd already seen the hire car counter and would have driven if he'd had to.

It was with a great sense of relief when the aircraft finally landed and taxied to the terminal. Another interminable wait whilst the crew prepared to open the doors. Eventually they were ready and Alan immediately started to fight his way off the plane. Normally one to wait calmly in his seat whilst the aisles cleared he just couldn't do it this time, not when one son was missing and the other frantic with worry. Despite his efforts the press of the other passengers forced him to move slowly down the narrow passageway and out onto the walkway into the terminal. Here the area opened up and he was able to make more speed and headed directly for the exit, he'd only been travelling light and had no baggage to wait for, _thank God_. After Charlie's frantic call he'd shoved everything into the bag and had been out of the hotel room within minutes.

Digging into his pocket he dragged out his cell phone and switched it on. He slipped it back into his pocket as he strode to the exit knowing it would take a minute or so to acquire a network before he would be able to make or receive any calls. He was determined not to waste any time, he could make the call whilst driving. Concentrating on his goal, the exit and then the parking lot he didn't notice the man that moved to intercept his path.

"Mr Eppes."

Alan stopped abruptly at the touch of the hand on his arm. Turning he looked into the face of a man in a suit holding up a familiar ID card. His heart sank, why would someone he didn't know from the FBI be waiting for him? He'd told Charlie he would come directly home. "Yes? What-?"

The young man moved quickly to calm the older man, seeing the rising panic. "Mr Eppes, we've not had any other word regarding Agent Eppes."

"Then why-?"

"Agent Sinclair asked me to escort you to the Field Office." The man explained. He held out his hand. "My name is Jonathan Clements, please call me Jon."

Alan took the offered hand and shook it automatically. He looked around but saw no-one he knew. "Where's my other son? Where's Charlie?"

"Agent Sinclair took him to the Field Office where he could be protected."

"Protected from what?" Alan demanded, his voice rising. "Someone has taken Don and you are telling me that Charlie is in danger as well? What have you got that you're not telling me?"

"Sir! Sir, please." Clements said soothingly. "All I know is that Agent Sinclair felt it best that Dr Eppes be taken to the office as a precautionary measure. We've had no word at all from the kidnappers, no indications of what they want or why Agent Eppes has been taken. At the moment we're-"

"You're assuming the worst then." Alan interrupted, his voice trailing off as images of what the worst could be started coming unbidden into his mind. Unfortunately over the last few years he had managed to accidentally see images in files, images he was never meant to see. It was this type of image that rose now in his thoughts, mangled and bloodied bodies in various contortions each wearing his eldest son's face. He shut them out, taking a firm hold of his thoughts, he was not one to borrow trouble if he could avoid it.

"We're assuming Agent Eppes is alive." Clements said firmly. He took a hold of Alan's arm and started steering him to the exit. He finished what he had started to say earlier. "We're just not sure at the moment that Agent Eppes was the intended target. Agent Sinclair may have more by the time we get to the office."

_Donny was not the intended target?_ Of the three of them if someone was going to attack the family Don was the most likely victim. That then left Charlie as the next most probable target, what with his previous work with the FBI, NSA along with the CDC and whoever else that his youngest had kept quiet. Numbly Alan let himself be led on for a few paces until self preservation made him tug his arm free and stop.

Don had drilled into him the need to be sure of who he was going with if ever anything like this ever happened, if someone he didn't recognise and claiming to be FBI tried to take him anywhere. He'd thought it paranoia at the time but definitely saw the value of his son's concerns now. "Can I see that ID again?"

"Sure." Without any sign of hesitation or misgivings Clements pulled the wallet back out of his pocket and handed it over, allowing the older man to take his time inspecting it.

Alan carefully scanned the contents of the wallet, the engraving on the badge, the security features Don had shown him on the ID card itself and even the wallet it all came in. It all checked out, the marks Don had shown him to look for were all present. He glanced at the young agent, the man seemed completely at ease with the scrutiny as if knowing that he had nothing to hide and was completely above board. Alan was convinced. He handed the ID back and waved his hand in an 'after-you' gesture. He wasn't surprised when Clements shook his head and repeated the gesture himself, he would follow Alan.

Once outside Clements touched his charge on the elbow as he'd started to turn towards the long term parking facility.

"My car-" Alan started, pointing to the left. He'd figured the agent would follow him to the office.

"Sir, it'd be better if we take mine." Clements pointed at the black sedan parked illegally against the curb. The small sticker on the windshield ensured it wouldn't be towed, as did the second agent waiting in the vehicle. Agent Sinclair had suggested to him that just one of them approach Mr Eppes as it would be less worrying or threatening for the older man that way. The way his ID had been inspected showed that Sinclair had been right; Mr Eppes was cautious and given the situation would likely have attempted to flee if he'd thought they were not agents.

Alan again started to object but stopped himself. David must really be worried to be this careful. That realisation in turn worried him. He nodded and changed direction, climbing into the backseat of the other car.

During the drive into LA it never crossed his mind that he could have been the intended target.

-100-1111-1110-

Don had bitten back the snappy, 'sure' that rose unbidden at the priest's conversational expression. The agent wasn't going anywhere, that much was obvious. He waited as the priest went back over to Chief and had a few words with him before moving on to the van. The priest came back a minute or two later carrying a bundle of blankets.

"Here we go, Agent." Father Mike said as he dropped the blankets with a smile. "I insisted on coming here for your welfare so I was prepared. As a part of that I can check your bindings and your injuries. How are your hands?"

Don blinked for a moment as he processed the words. Sighing, he decided that the priest meant exactly what he said, check his bindings not release his bindings. "They're okay."

Moments after discovering that he was bound the agent had tested the strength of the rope about his wrists and found that his captors had done a good job. They weren't Boy Scouts but they certainly tied knots like they were. He'd given up after a few minutes before he rubbed his wrists raw. There was no point in causing himself an injury when it wouldn't do him any good. At least the rope wasn't tied too tight and he could still move and feel his fingers despite the cold. The priest checked anyway, moving around behind the agent and touching his hands, gently applying pressure to his fingertips to check for circulation before inspecting his wrists for chaffing.

As Father Mike worked Don noticed that Chief had stepped forward, a hand in his pocket, holding the knife no doubt. The boy's attention was fully focused on the priest and he was close enough to act quickly. Don regretted his earlier insistence that the older man release him in the presence of the armed boy, clearly Chief was prepared to pull out the knife and perhaps he was prepared even to use it to control the priest. Don didn't want to put anyone else at risk.

The priest then moved his attention to his head. "Where did they strike you?"

"Back of my head." Don was not surprised the man knew that detail, Chief had obviously been fully open with details of his crime. The headache had subsided a little but fortunately that was his only real symptom, no dizziness and even more importantly no nausea, that would not have been fun whilst wearing a hood. Gentle fingers probed until the agent winced, hissing in a breath. He'd found the spot.

"Looks like the skin's split and it's bled a bit, but it doesn't seem too bad." The priest bent down and recovered a small first aid kit from amongst the blankets. Pulling out a gauze swab he poured on some antiseptic solution. "This will probably sting a little."

The priest was wrong but Don just winced, it didn't sting a little, it stung a lot. The man moved his ministrations to Don's throat and once again the antiseptic solution stung on the small cut located there.

"There, all done. I've got some paracetamol if that will help?" Father Mike held up a clearly marked packet of pills. He pulled the blister slide out and showed the agent that each table was still sealed in the manufacturer's packaging.

"Thanks, Father." He nodded accepting the pain killers, if they relieved his headache it would make it easier for him to concentrate. The priest slipped two tablets into his mouth and held a bottle of water for him to wash them down.

A few minutes later Don was back on his side, lying now on a layer of folded blanket with another draped over him. He was immediately warmer, but hardly comfortable, not with the circumstances being what they were. He watched as the priest moved back to join Chief near the van.

Don could only lie back helplessly as they started talking. They were far enough away that he couldn't hear the words. But the glances that came his way more frequently as the conversation continued along with some sharp hand movements indicated that Chief was becoming increasingly agitated. Don suspected that somehow the offer of a reduced penalty was not going over as well as it could have. Certainly not as well as an unrealistic no-punishment, home-free offer would have. He sighed again, even to ensure his own safety he just couldn't bring himself to do it. There were times you lied to offenders to achieve an end, but this was not one of them.

The boy finally approached him alone as the priest climbed back up into the van. That couldn't be good, from what Don could tell there had been no solution reached. He caught the priest's eye and the man waved a calming hand, it wasn't over yet.

Awkwardly he started to struggle up to face the kid but stopped at the raised hand. The kid waited for him to settle back before moving the last few steps. He bent and pulled the blanket up for a moment, checking his captive's wrists then ankles for interference with the ropes. This despite earlier hovering nearby watching the priest's every move. The blanket was dropped back into place as Chief moved away without a word. At least the hood hadn't been replaced.

The agent watched as the van was driven from the building. He tried to get a look at the area outside the warehouse as the door closed but with the spot lights in his eyes all he could see was blackness and the glow of streetlights and some passing headlights. Not enough to identify where he was or provide him with a landmark he might be able to find later.

.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

_**A/N:**__ Another player enters the fray. . ._

**CHAPTER SIX**

-1-1100-1-1110-

As the doors parted Alan strode out making a beeline for the conference room often occupied by his son and his team during investigations. Sure enough through the glass walls he could see that David was there and looked to be giving instructions to a group of agents.

"Alan?"

He stopped and turned to find Colby Granger looking up at him from his cubicle. Every available flat and some not so flat surfaces were covered with files, a chewed pen was in the agent's mouth and an obviously cold cup of coffee was balanced precariously amongst the mess.

"Colby," Alan greeted. He glanced quickly around. "Where's Charlie?"

"Uh, I think he's in the men's room." He glanced in that direction and sure enough the curly haired whiz-kid was just emerging from the hallway. "There he is."

Alan looked over and saw that his youngest son hadn't spotted him and was making his way over to the break room. Leaving the sandy haired agent to his work without another word he went after him.

"Dad!" Charlie had turned at the sound of footsteps behind him.

"Son."

"They won't let me help." Charlie complained, sounding much more like a younger brother than a math professor and former FBI consultant.

Immediately reminded of his son's lost clearance he glanced back across the room to the conference room. David was just now coming out and was headed their way. He turned back to Charlie. "Surely this isn't classified?"

"Not as such, but the stuff Don's been working on is. Colby's trying to go through the recent stuff but I'd be so much quicker."

Ah, that explained the mess surrounding Colby in his cubicle. Even though he knew his son was right, "They are trained to do this, Charlie. There is nothing else we can do."

"Alan, Charlie." David said as he reached them. He ushered them into the break room and onto the couches.

"What's happening? What information have you got about Don?" Alan demanded before David could say anything further. "Agent Clements said that you don't think Don was the target?"

David tried to explain his reasoning behind that, starting by outlining what they'd determined had happened outside the craftsman before moving onto their investigation. "So you see it does seem like they didn't realise who they'd taken." He finished after explaining the call to Control.

"But it can't be Charlie they were after; he's not worked for you or any of the other agencies for months."

"We know. We've been over this with Charlie. He can't think of any reason why he could have been the intended victim." David agreed. "So we're back to going through Don's files and our work over the last few months."

"What about the case you were working on the last few days?" Alan had spoken to Don the previous night by phone and knew that they were close to finalising a case that had been taking up all their time this week.

"All wrapped up, everyone is in custody. The raids went smoothly this morning," He couldn't help glancing at his watch; yes it was still 'this morning', but only just. "There were no problems or resistance."

"Any threats lately?" He'd not heard of any but then Don was playing things very close to the chest ever since Charlie had been forced out.

There was no hesitation. "Nothing."

"What about the Russian mafia? They threatened him a while ago." He remembered Don's bank accounts being wiped out in a show of power. It had gone no further than that, at least not that he knew of.

"No, nothing from them since then." David shifted. "We asked this of Charlie, now I have to ask this of you. Could anyone be after you?"

"Me?" Alan was incredulous. "Who would be after me?"

"I was hoping you could tell me that. What are you working on at the moment?" David knew that his boss' father was retired just as he knew he had gone into partnership with an old friend working on various development projects around LA and beyond.

"Right now we have a project designing a library in Sacramento, that's where I was until Charlie called."

"Anything else in the works?"

"Let's see. A community centre in Rialto and a golf practice range in San Dimas. That's it."

"Any problems with any of them?"

"No. Not that anyone's told us anyway. We're doing the final presentation in Sacramento at the moment. The first stage of the community centre in Rialto has been fully approved, demolition to start in a month or so. The second stage is on the board at the moment. The golf practice range is almost completed and is already receiving bookings." Alan summarised.

"Demolition?" That usually caused some issues and with the phone call coming from Rialto as well he started thinking he may have found something.

"An old warehouse. It's abandoned and falling down anyway which makes it a perfect site for a new community centre. The rezoning approvals all went through without a hitch. We're starting with a senior citizens centre and then going to develop a youth centre on the same site."

David shook his head, his theory just wasn't panning out, from what Alan just said there'd been no problems on the Rialto project. Neither the math professor nor the planner was shaping up as possible targets. It all led back to the missing agent. "Give me the addresses anyway and we'll look into them to be sure."

Alan grabbed a pen and paper and wrote down the addresses, handing the sheet over when he'd finished. "Speaking of addresses, did you get one from that call you mentioned?"

"We've already had some agents check it out, but we got nothing. Not even any surrounding CCTV cameras to get footage from." David explained first. As the call hadn't come from a structure a covert team had gone in first rather than the SWAT unit that was ready and waiting. It had been a complete bust, even doorknocking had failed to gain them any information. "It was a payphone on the corner of South Sycamore Avenue and East Wilson Street in Rialto."

"Rialto?" Charlie perked up.

"You think there could be a link between a payphone in Rialto and the community centre development?" David asked. "Your father just said everything was fine." As far as he could see it was a coincidence, but then again they had nothing else. He was prepared to listen to the professor's theories even if he couldn't provide additional information for the man to work with.

"You know how I feel about coincidences. That's twice Rialto has come up." The professor explained. He suddenly sat up straighter as he remembered something. "That is also where that crop sitter was living. You know the one that helped Don during the wildfire up at Green Valley Lake?"

David had forgotten that. The man had gotten off lightly thanks to Don so it was unlikely he would target the agent. It still paid to look into it. "I'll get Colby on it."

"That wasn't classified, I can-"

"No Charlie." David sighed as he stood. He saw the looks of frustration on both men's faces. "I tried. I've spoken to Assistant Director Wright but he wouldn't clear you to work on this. It may not be classified but everything we work on here is sensitive to some degree. If I can present a better argument to him I will but for now?" He shrugged. "I'll let you know the minute we got anything. That's the best I can do."

"But David, I-" Charlie started to follow as David headed out but was pulled back by his father's grip.

"Charlie, he tried. Let him work."

-11-1111-1100-10-11001-

Impatiently Colby grabbed the handset off his desk phone and shoved it against his ear as he continued to work. He really didn't have any time for interruptions as he worked his way through Don's files trying to come up with an angle. He was concentrating at the moment on the file belonging to Toby Jon Cooper. The man had recently finished his intensive corrections order according to the probation officer he'd just spoken to. The probation officer had also insisted that Cooper had been appreciative of the break he'd been given and harboured no ill will towards the agents involved in his arrest. The address for the man hadn't changed and Colby was in the process of preparing a tasking sheet for some agents to visit the Cooper anyway. It was a lead based purely on the coincidence of living in Rialto. He abruptly remembered the phone in his hand and why he'd picked it up.

"Special Agent Granger." He introduced himself, the announcement on autopilot as he continued writing.

"_We need to talk."_

Colby stopped writing up the tasking sheet and concentrated on the voice. It sounded familiar but, "Who is this?"

"_You have forgotten me already?"_ The man sounded amused. _"I would have thought that there were three-point-two million reasons to make sure you didn't."_

Che Lobo Santiago. He recognised the voice now. The three-point-two million referred to the money that Colby had literally run halfway around town before delivering it to the man who had taken the once 18th Street Mexicali's son. He'd never thought of money being heavy in the literal sense before. "I don't need three-point-two million reasons, just one. How is Joe?"

"_Joe is good."_

Totally confused as to why Santiago had called him out of the blue Colby got straight down to it, there were other things to do. "So, what do you want?"

"_I will meet you, your phones have ears and this is not a conversation for others."_ Che Lobo said cryptically.

"I'm kinda in the middle of something right now."

"_I know exactly what you are in the middle of."_ All trace of amusement now gone. The voice was now deadly serious. _"You want to meet me."_

Colby squashed the first thought that came to mind, that the gangster had something to do with Don's kidnapping, that the gangster perhaps even had Don. That made no sense, they were not involved in the still ongoing investigation into Santiago's activities and if anything they should be in the man's good books for returning his son to him. Don hadn't been involved in that but the rest of the team had and that 'cover', for lack of a better term, should have extended to their boss. No, surely Don had nothing to fear from the apparently former gang-banger, now record producer. Despite that, whatever Che Lobo's involvement in this incident was the man was right, Colby wanted to meet him.

"When and where?" The agent asked.

A location was provided; the time was half an hour. _"This is not a conversation for others."_ The man repeated.

He understood the warning, no wires, no company. This was to be a private meeting. Given the stakes Colby was prepared to agree to the terms. "I'll be there."

"Got something?" David asked expectantly as Colby approached him in the war room.

Colby outlined the call and his agreement. "I gotta run if I'm going to make it." He finished.

David glanced at his watch and agreed. He had to make a snap decision and nodded his permission for his partner to proceed. He accepted the piece of paper thrust at him. A glance showed it to be a tasking sheet for the crop sitter, Cooper, to be interviewed. He dropped onto the desk where it rested with others waiting to be detailed. "You need some back-up, I'll get it organised."

The younger agent skidded to a halt at the door. "No, I have to do this alone."

"You will, but I'm going to have back-up waiting nearby just in case. Go, anything we can get will help." David waved his partner out of the room.

David lifted the handset on the nearest phone and dialled into control, requesting the backup by diverting a pair of agents from a tasking. David was not real happy with Colby going alone but there was no time to argue the toss, Colby was already cutting it fine. Che Lobo had obviously picked a place and time that would leave them no opportunity to do more than make the meet, no time to plan, recon or have a support team in place. David just had to hope that the rapport Colby had built was going to both bring them a dividend with vital information and keep him safe.

The one-time gangster may claim to be above board now but they all knew better. No one left the 18th Street Mexicali, if ties were to be cut it was they that cut the ties with you. Permanently.

-10010-1-1101-1111-1110-101-

Ramone waited as the small furtive figure snuck back out of the window of the house tucking a small object that had glinted briefly in the streetlight into a back pocket. That glimpse was enough to recognise the object. The figure headed off down the street. The watcher moved quickly to the window and climbed inside. He checked the hiding place and was not surprised to find it empty. He was back out of the window and onto the sidewalk within seconds, the manoeuvre well practiced and completed without alerting anyone else in the house. It was his old room after all, just as it was his old hiding place that no longer contained his first piece.

His young cousin Hector was still walking away, just now turning the corner unaware that he was being followed.

.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

-11-1111-1100-10-11001-

Pulling around the final corner Colby pressed the gas pedal firmly, the time was up two minutes ago. He slid to a halt at the curb and climbed out of the sedan, barely taking the half second needed to lock it before heading to the closed club. The club would normally have still been open at this hour, a clear sign of how keen Santiago was to meet him privately.

He tried the door and was not surprised to find it swinging open at his touch. Cautiously, after a last look around at the deserted street, he stepped inside. He slowly advanced towards the main bar area as the door swung shut behind him. A man stepped out of the shadows and placed a firm hand on his chest, halting his advance. The agent recognised him as Guerra, Che Lobo's current lieutenant. The man himself was nowhere in sight.

"You wearing a wire?" Guerra demanded.

The lighting was dim but more than sufficient for Colby to be able to see two other men lurking nearby, watching the action. All three were armed and making no attempt to conceal that fact. Returning his attention to the owner of the hand on his chest he shook his head. "No wire."

"You don't mind if I check, eh?"

"Knock yourself out." He raised his arms out to the sides. With their boss still under investigation he had expected that they would take no chances.

Guerra was thorough, running his hands over every inch of Colby's upper body, taking extra care with the collar of his shirt under which a microphone could be concealed. Eventually he was satisfied that there was no listening device. He moved his search lower, snagging Colby's cell phone. He checked the display, a reasonable precaution as many phones could be used as voice recorders, before turning it off and handing it back. His hand perhaps carelessly, perhaps not, brushed over the agent's holster. Colby responded reflexively, slapping away the man's hand and taking a half step back.

Colby then froze, hand protectively over his weapon but didn't make any attempt to draw it, three other hands were also on weapons. He was willing to go only so far in order to meet Santiago, but no further unless more compelling reasons came to light. He sincerely hoped those compelling reasons did not exist but was prepared to accept the possibility.

"No." A firm voice interrupted the standoff before it could take a more dangerous turn.

Colby looked cautiously away from the men facing him, deeper into the club and saw Santiago appear at the edge of a booth.

"I thought you wanted me here to talk?" Colby queried. He was open to the possibility that the call had been a ruse, that Santiago had indeed been involved in some way or had some other ulterior motive.

"They are protective. Guerra, let our friend through." Che Lobo waved his hand, motioning Colby forward.

With more confidence than he felt Colby brushed past the lieutenant and strode forward, ignoring the slight click that indicated that the door had been locked behind him. It made him distinctly uncomfortable to be locked into the club but he would cross that bridge if he came to it. For the moment he had a job to do. Carefully preventing his thoughts from showing on his face he slid into the seat opposite the man he'd come to meet. His hand however remained close to his weapon. "You said you had some information for us?"

Che Lobo leant back, making himself comfortable. "You would not believe how late they run kid's sporting fixtures these days."

Colby was somewhat taken aback by the statement. _What on earth did kid's sports have to do with anything?_ "What-?"

"My son, he comes home from baseball tonight and tells me something that he has heard from one of the other kids." Santiago continued by way of explanation. "I put some ears out and hear the same thing. Some fed has gotten himself into trouble. Normally that is not of concern to me but I hear the name Eppes and remember that name as your boss. I listen some more and hear that you are looking for him, that he has been taken. Now I think to myself that this is something you might like to know."

"Tell me what you have." Colby demanded immediately, leaning forward impatiently, his own safety forgotten. He had a sudden thought. "Or is this going to cost me?"

"No charge. I am offended." Che Lobo dropped his hands to the table as if he was preparing to stand.

"Alright. I'm sorry." He quickly apologised. The gangster was here on his own terms and could easily leave without giving up anything further. Alone, outnumbered and without any probable cause Colby wouldn't be able to stop him. "What have you heard?"

"Whispers from some kids that your boss is being held somewhere in the Rialto area."

Rialto again. They now had an area to search, even if they had to take the whole place apart. For a missing federal agent there would be no hole deep enough to hide in. Unconsciously he again leant forward in his eagerness. "Held by who?"

Che Lobo hesitated a moment. "I am still listening. All I know is that he is alive while they decide what to do with him. They didn't plan on netting a fed. Few are that stupid."

Images of Crystal Hoyle flashed through Colby's mind. Yeah, few were that stupid but it was those few that they were worried about. If Don hadn't been taken by one of that select group then he stood a better chance of getting out of it alive. It also meant that David's theory was shaping up; someone else had been the target which left only Charlie or Alan.

"These kids, you know who they are?" The agent demanded. Perhaps they had a better chance of getting information out of them than Santiago. Although somehow, he doubted it.

"They do not interest you." The man's stare was pointed.

Colby could take the hint, the kids were known to Santiago but he was not going to pass that information on. Still on delicate ground he had to play the game by the other man's rules. That didn't prevent him from trying another angle. "Do these kids know who is holding Agent Eppes?"

Another hesitation. "That I have not heard."

"When you find out, you will tell us?"

"I will consider it."

Colby had expected the infuriating answer, loyalties ran deep in Santiago's world. But that could work for them too. "If you have any influence-"

"I will make a suggestion, if I can."

A 'suggestion' from Che Lobo would go a long way towards being an order Colby knew. It would be a big help if he kept his promise. Looking at the man the agent believed that he would. "Thank-you."

The gangster nodded and stood, his men moving up. The meeting was over.

-10010-1-1101-1111-1110-101-

His cousin pulled aside a section of chain link fence in the alleyway and crawled through into the yard surrounding the abandoned warehouse on West Rialto Avenue. He waited as Hector walked across the cracked and barren concrete before pulling open a door at the side of the main building and disappearing inside. Ramone followed, glancing around at the several smaller sheds assuring himself that none were occupied. Satisfied he moved up to the side of the warehouse, avoiding the door and skirted around the side of the building until he found a window low enough to peer through. No good, it was painted black. He tried another, then another until he finally found a corner where the paint had bubbled off the window. Pressing his eye against the glass he looked inside.

A group of other kids around the same age as Hector were standing around, that some were even younger the watcher barely noted. That wasn't unusual in his world, kids grew up early and usually died early. Ramone had been hoping Hector was staying away from that but what he was seeing now and the object the kid had taken from his old hiding space suggested otherwise. Hector and one other kid moved away from the rest, moving more towards the centre of the large space.

The window Ramone had been forced to use was too far away to hear anything but as he watched he saw his cousin show the other kid the nickel plated .38 revolver, pulling it from his back jeans pocket. The other kid backed up a step and seemed shocked, shaking his head before glancing sharply off to his right towards the centre of the warehouse. The kid moved as if to block someone's view of the weapon.

Shifting slightly, Ramone adjusted his line of sight into the building. There on the floor in the direction the other kid had just looked was a blanket covered figure. He could see that the figure was watching the two kids and would have most likely seen the weapon. The figure abruptly moved and sat up, blanket falling away to reveal a man with short dark hair wearing what looked like a white business dress shirt. With his somewhat specialised background Ramone recognised the clear signs of a man with his hands restrained behind him. The man's mouth moved but it was impossible for him to hear what was being said.

He watched a while longer but it seemed that all that was going to happen for the moment was some more talking and arguing. It did not look as if the bound man was going to be shot any time soon. Well, he'd been told to follow his cousin, a friend of a boy that had played baseball with Che Lobo's son. He'd done as ordered and it seemed it had paid off, it looked like the fed that Che Lobo was interested in was here and actually being held by the kids. Despite the anger he felt from failing to prevent Hector from falling into his world he couldn't help but feel a small surge of pride at what his younger cousin was involved in. Taking a fed was no small achievement.

Careful to move silently, another skill granted by his less than salubrious background, Ramone left the warehouse and made a quick circuit around the grounds, noting the locations of the sheds and the vehicle gate that appeared locked but actually wasn't. He went out the gate, leaving it as he'd found it before walking casually down the block. He found a place of concealment, he didn't want to be questioned by the local cops for loitering but far more importantly, he was way out of his territory and needed to keep his head down. Pulling out his cell phone he slid the screen up and found the number he wanted under the listing 'G' and dialled.

"_Hola."_

-100-1111-1110-

Somehow he'd almost drifted off to sleep. Don started awake at the sound of voices. Opening his eyes he turned his head and spotted Chief and Hector standing between him and the other kids. The two boys appeared to be arguing.

"…you're sure?" Chief was saying.

"It's all over the street."

"But how did they find out?"

"They have ears everywhere. You know that." Hector reached behind him, tugging at something in his back pocket. "This belongs to my cousin."

Don stiffened when Hector moved his hand and the item he held forward to show the other boy became clearly visible. The small revolver shone brightly in the light, the spotlights reflecting off the silvered metal.

"What are you doing with that?" Chief demanded, taking a half step back in reflex. His head snapped around and the older boy stared directly at the agent for a moment before stepping slightly forward in a belated attempt to block his view of the weapon.

Things had just moved to a whole new level, Don knew. He sat up abruptly, barely feeling the chill in the air as the blanket dropped away. "That's what I would like to know." He demanded.

"Shut up." Hector ordered. "We're not talking to you."

Don's eyes narrowed but he held his tongue, waiting to see what developed.

"But you talked to your cousin?" Chief demanded. "You told him all about him and he gave you the gun?"

"So it's alright for you to go tell Father Mike but I can't talk to anyone?"

"Father Mike will help us. Your cousin probably just wants the fed dead, that's why he gave you the gun, right? We're in enough trouble as it is."

"Ramone didn't give me the gun, I took it." Hector bristled. "And I didn't tell him anything, I haven't even seen him."

"But they still know about this. How?"

"I don't know. It wasn't me. Maybe Chico bragged about it at the game."

_Chico?_ Don tried to put the name to a face. The kid in the baseball outfit, it had to be. As best he could tell the other kids had hung around all night, all except for that one. The kid had vanished not long after he'd come to and hadn't reappeared. Glancing around again now he saw one of the youngest kids slip otherwise unnoticed out the door. Don turned his attention back to the argument.

"Nah-uh. Chico wouldn't have said anything. They'd be here bashing the door down if he had."

Don listened in frustration not knowing who it was they were talking about. At this stage he wasn't sure if these mysterious others knowing about him was good or bad. He was leaning towards bad however, the mention of Hector's cousin wanting him dead was not promising. That and the fact that Hector's cousin had a gun that a kid could easily obtain.

"Well then I don't know."

"So if they want the fed set free why did you bring the gun?"

That was a damned good question. Hector hesitated, shoving the weapon back into his jeans pocket. He glanced over at the subject of their conversation and appeared a little disconcerted that the agent was staring right back. "I thought we might need it." His voice sounded flat and unconvincing.

Don got the sudden impression that Hector had his own agenda and was working up to actioning that plan. He knew he wasn't going to be set free any time soon.

.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

-100-1-10110-1001-100-

"Rialto?" David mused. The coincidence was no longer a coincidence, it was pretty much fact now.

"That what Santiago says." Colby repeated. He'd just returned to the Field Office and was reporting the details of his meeting. "But that's all he would tell me. Apparently some kids know more but he wouldn't tell me who they were. He says he's working on getting more details that he can give us."

"You think he'll put the word out like he promised?"

"Yeah, I do."

David looked up at the whiteboard, checking the current status of the agents in the field. He reached for the phone on the desk about to dial the number for Control. He would keep some of the teams running out their inquiries, especially the one working the Cooper angle. The latest on that had the man not at home which raised his status on the potential suspect list; there was a full team in the area now working on that. The agents working on locating and speaking with the town planners involved with Alan's project in Rialto were also going to be left on task. The rest were going to be pulled off the other less likely inquiries and sent to flood the general Rialto area, anything that moved was going to be fair game.

"Colby, get onto the LAPD. I want everything they can spare to move into Rialto. Stop, prop and shakedown everything. If they get even half a whisper I want to know about it before they act on it." David ordered. Wright had been in contact with their chief earlier preparing for this eventuality and had been offered full cooperation. There were no half measures when it came to a LEO in trouble.

"Already dialling." The younger agent had anticipated the order, they'd been waiting for a realistic ballpark to search. Now the hunt was on in earnest, Rialto would be locked down if needed. The LAPD knew those streets better than the FBI. A show of force was also called for at this point and uniforms did that far better than suits. Time was of the essence, with each passing hour the likelihood of the agent being found unharmed diminished.

"And get someone to go through all the LA bureau files," David added as the younger agent waited for his call to connect. "Pull out any investigation that has any ties with Rialto. We'll run those down." Colby's report had firmed in his own mind his earlier conclusion, the FBI agent had not been the intended victim of the kidnapping. Despite that however they had to be thorough and cover all bases. When this was all over and they had Don back they would hopefully get some answers, until then they would have to work with what little they had. As Colby nodded David made his own call.

A few minutes later David left the conference room leaving Colby to manage the retasked teams, information was expected to start coming in very soon as each and every stop was to be reported. He glanced over at the break room and saw two pairs of eyes staring back at him, as he watched Alan stood, ready to hear whatever news David might have. David raised a hand in a gesture meaning 'wait', he had to brief up first, Wright needed to be kept firmly in the loop. On the ADIC's order SWAT would be moved up, staging somewhere in concealment near Rialto ready to jump on a moment's notice.

Alan took half a step then stopped before nodding his understanding and sitting back down. He'd had enough exposure to his son's and team's work ethic to know that when work needed doing there were priorities that had to be met. He would understand that David would update them as soon as he could.

-10010-1-1101-1111-1110-101-

It took almost an hour before the pimped up SUV pulled to a stop near where Ramone was hiding. During that time it became obvious to him that the cops knew the fed was somewhere in the area. Just about every second car had either federal plates or was an LAPD cruiser. He kept himself deep in the shadows as he saw people being harassed and shaken down, even cars weren't safe as he saw flashing lights positioned behind cars pulled to the side of the road. He'd been wondering if Guerra was going to make it through.

Ramone stepped out of concealment behind the bush against the building and after a final quick glance around crossed the road to the vehicle. Rialto was a big enough area and the cops relatively thin enough that there were some periods that there were none to be seen, even if it was only for a few minutes. This was one of those periods and he knew it wouldn't last. The side windows were heavily tinted forcing him to peer into the windshield as he approached. Spotting the man he was to report to he continued over to the passenger side.

"Cops are everywhere." Ramone reported as the window slid downwards.

"I know. Which building?" Guerra demanded shortly. Getting to Ramone's location without being stopped hadn't been easy.

"That one." Ramone pointed. "The gate is not locked, neither is the door."

"Get in."

He jumped into the back seat and the SUV moved off gently, approaching the warehouse and the unlocked gate. Cruz was being careful to minimise the noise of the worked engine so that there was barely a rumble.

With mounting excitement Ramone reached under his shirt and pulled out his piece, a .45 semi-automatic that he'd taken off his first kill. A special weapon for a special job, he'd chosen to carry this one tonight just in case. There was just one small detail he wanted clarified, he wanted Hector to be safe. "We just waste the fed, right?"

Guerra turned in his seat and glanced at the gun Ramone was checking over. "Put that away. We're not capping anyone. Che Lobo wants the fed in one piece." His order was firm but his voice suggested that he was less than pleased with it. The whole concept of rescuing a cop grated, especially a fed when he had blood owing. But business was business and Guerra was confident that no matter what had been said to the other agent, his boss would have an angle. Having a fed beholden to Che Lobo was something he could understand, you just never knew when having one on a string could come in handy. The SUV came to a stop. "Get the gate."

Reluctantly Ramone hopped out and put his piece away. He'd hoped that they were going to take out the fed and wasn't happy with the order, but only a fool argued with Che Lobo. After opening the gate he pointed Cruz towards the door and jogged after the SUV, catching up as it rolled the last few metres with the engine off.

The two men climbed out and left the car doors open. They gathered at the warehouse door before Guerra eased it open. There was no reaction. Guerra grinned as he stepped through, this was going to be easy. If he worked it right, it could also be fun.

-100-1111-1110-

Facing the direction he was Don saw the door open and the three men walk in as if they owned the place. The kids nearest the door reacted, some scattering others trying to make themselves less noticeable. As the intruders moved deeper into the warehouse most of the kids took the opportunity to slip out the door and away to safety. As the men approached the agent recognised the one in the lead, the other two he knew by type, just as the kids had, even if they weren't wearing any colours. _And he'd thought that Hector's gun was bad_.

He shifted his attention to the right to where Hector and Chief had been sitting. The two boys had been having a long discussion ever since the younger one had produced the gun. The discussion had not seemed to be getting anywhere, but that was all academic now with 18th Street Mexicali involved. The gang must have been the mysterious 'they' that Hector had mentioned earlier. He saw that the two boys had reacted to the surprised shout from one of the kids at the door and they were now standing side by side facing the approaching gang-bangers. Don didn't think they were standing their ground, he felt that they were more frozen in shock than anything else.

Abruptly Hector stepped forward, angling to approach the gangster to the right. "Ramone, I-"

Ramone swore as he marched up to the boy, fist raised and swinging. A moment later Hector was lying on the concrete, holding his face. Ramone bent and retrieved the gun from the boy's back pocket. Hector tried to say something but the gangster stopped him with more abuse, sounding as if he were taking out some frustration on the boy.

Don frowned and then wiped the expression from his face. Ramone couldn't possibly have seen the gun from his angle. Then it clicked, that meant that Ramone had been watching them and had probably even followed Hector here.

The remaining two men brushed past the action, heading directly for the helpless agent. Chief finally moved, jogging backwards a few steps to plant himself in their path.

"Wait-"

Guerra simply reached out and pushed the kid aside. Chief stumbled to a stop and stared after the two men.

Don wished he could stand to meet the gang-bangers on a more level playing field but couldn't, even if the rope hadn't been tying him to the ring in the concrete he would probably have fallen flat on his face with his ankles bound anyway. Not the way he wanted to go out. He had to settle for shaping his face into an expressionless mask and keeping his gaze steady as the two men stopped a few feet away. Fully expecting a gun to be drawn and aimed at his head followed soon after by a gunshot he would never hear he was more than a little surprised when the gangsters simply returned his gaze. Understanding that the first word was going to shape the encounter Don remained silent and waited.

Guerra looked at the captive and was impressed despite himself. The fed would have to be sure that he was about to be whacked but showed no sign of fear, nor was he begging for his life. Perhaps that would change if a gun came out but somehow Guerra doubted it. Maybe he could give that a go later, but for now he would have to settle for words. "So."

Don replied in the same tone. "Guerra."

Che Lobo's lieutenant nodded. The fed would have known what they were but clearly he actually knew exactly who they were. That should make things go a little smoother. Time to let the fed off the hook; or maybe not, his words could go both ways. "You're coming with us."

A slight inclination of his head was all Don would allow to show of his surprise and relief. He was to live a little longer yet. He had to maintain a confident front. "I really should check my appointment book but I seem to have left it behind."

"I think you can make it."

Don looked up at the unpleasant grin and had to concede the point. "It looks that way."

"Hey!" Chief again interrupted. "What-?"

"Keep out of this kid." Guerra's offsider ordered.

"But-" The boy tried again. Don noted that he appeared more worried than scared, although it was close.

It was Guerra this time that answered, turning to face the challenger. "You don't want to mess with us. We take him. We go. No-one gets hurt."

Chief opened his mouth but stopped himself. He glanced back at Hector who was just now picking himself up off the floor, blood streaming from his mouth. He looked back at the three Mexicalis now watching him and decided that he was in well over his head. Guiltily he turned his attention to the dude he'd held prisoner and was now delivering into the hands of bangers that would most likely kill him without a second thought.

Don saw the guilt and read the apology there. He found himself feeling sorry for the kid, Chief had been trying to figure a way to get himself and the other boys out of the mess they'd made for themselves without bringing any further harm to their captive. It was all over now, the kid well and truly outclassed. His knife was no match for the guns the gangsters would be carrying.

"Agent, I-" At the end the kid was suddenly being formal, a further sign of his guilt and remorse.

"Get out." Don interrupted the kid firmly. If he couldn't save himself at least he could save the kids. "Take Hector and get out."

Guerra shot the agent a surprised look, he'd have hardly thought the fed would care what happened to the kids. He turned back to the kid and added his own encouragement. "Scat."

Chief reacted, taking hold of Hector's arm and propelling him to the door and out into the night.

The four remaining men regarded each other silently for a moment until Guerra jerked his head at Ramone. "Cut him loose."

The younger gangster now also sported a less than friendly grin as he reached for his belt and came up with a switchblade. Ramone crouched in front of Don before holding up the handle and pressing the switch. Despite himself the agent flinched as the blade sprang up in front of his face. At a distance of less than twenty-one feet a knife was just as lethal as a gun and perhaps even more intimidating, especially so when the knife was just inches away and held in the hands of someone who was anti-fed by trade. Ramone's grin widened at his involuntary reaction.

Don got a grip and held himself calmly as the gangster moved around behind him after ripping the blanket away. The rope around his wrists was sliced free with one or two not so accidental slices through his skin in the process. Next the rope around his ankles was cut free before the gangster moved back and took up a position behind him. He was free but still no guns were pulled. Cautiously the agent climbed to his feet finding himself a little unsteady. He tried to use the moment to loosen up his stiff limbs without obviously stretching.

"Let's go." Guerra ordered, waving him forward.

The one whose name he didn't know moved first and Don had no choice but to follow with Guerra keeping pace beside him. Ramone followed along behind. Don wasn't sure if the switchblade had been put away or not but wasn't going to give the man the satisfaction of turning back to check.

It was when he got to the door and Guerra had to step back to allow him to move through that Don saw his chance. Guerra and Ramone were inside the warehouse leaving just the one outside with him. He gave that man a sudden shove before grabbing at the edge of the door and slamming it shut. He darted to the left and made a break for it. As he pounded towards the darkness offered by the shadows next to a small shed there was a single gunshot.

.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

**CHAPTER NINE**

-110-1-10100-1000-101-10010- -1101-1001-1011-101-

"Your man is being held in a warehouse at 1084 West Rialto Avenue." Father Mike said tersely as his call was connected.

"_Sir, who is this?"_ The FBI operator demanded.

"That's not important. I am breaking a confidence to give you this information." Michael was not comfortable with what he was doing but he was less comfortable with the alternative. He would make his amends to God later, He would understand why His servant had to do what he was doing.

Father Mike glanced down at the boy, Jorge who was in the phone booth with him. Jorge had come running into the church a short time before with some distressing news. Hector had turned up at the warehouse carrying a gun. That was over an hour ago, Jorge spending the time before going to the church agonising over what to do with the information. Even more worrying was the information that Jorge was sure that Hector was planning to resolve the whole mess rather more directly than young Mark, hence the weapon. Micheal's first thought had been to go to the warehouse and speak with the boy who insisted on calling himself 'Chief' but with a gun on the scene he worried that he would set something off by confronting the issue there. That left him with no other avenues. Just as he had made a promise to Mark he had also made a promise to the FBI agent. He could try to keep at least one promise tonight, failing in both he couldn't accept.

"_Sir, let me put you through to the agent in charge."_

He turned his attention back to the phone. "No. You have what you need, don't take too long. I think they may be about to shoot him." Michael hung up and stepped out of the booth. He stood for a moment staring in the direction of the unseen warehouse, hoping that the federal agents wouldn't be too late to save their man. He'd done all he could.

"Father Mike?" The young voice interrupted.

"It will be alright, Jorge." Michael reassured. He looked down at the twelve-year-old boy. He'd long since gotten over being shocked at just how young some of these children were who involved themselves in adult affairs. "You had best head home now. You did the right thing."

The child didn't wait, running off into the night. Michael watched him go before walking slowly back to the church a few blocks away. It would have been quicker to use the phone there but he wanted to remain anonymous and provide some level of protection to the children that way. It was a weak attempt at mitigating his breach of the Confessional but it was the best he could do.

Michael reflected on all he'd done that evening. After tending to the agent's needs he'd had a long discussion with Mark as he was taken back to the church. By the time the boy had driven away to return to the warehouse Michael thought he'd given him a path to follow, a way to have the agent released unharmed with the best possible outcome for all the children involved. He'd been as sure as he could be that Mark would free the agent once he'd convinced his friends. But he also remembered that Mark had sounded doubtful that Hector would go along with it. He'd expected another visit from Mark during the night or even a visit from Hector, but not this.

Finally sitting back at his desk he started composing an e-mail to his Bishop requesting a transfer. As he'd told the agent he'd spent a lot of time building up trust in the neighbourhood, trust that he'd now betrayed. The betrayal he didn't regret so much, a life was at stake after all. But he did regret the loss of years of work. The only solution was to move on and allow another priest to start afresh. With a sigh he started typing.

-100-1-10110-1001-100-

"Colby!" The older agent shouted as he pressed the button to hang up the phone. Handset still pressed to his ear David immediately dialled an extension.

"_Wright."_

"Sir, we've had an anonymous informant give us a location where we will find Agent Eppes. A warehouse in Rialto. They said he's about to be shot." David reported.

"_I'll be right down. Alert the teams but hold for my order."_

"Yes Sir." David put the phone down and saw that Colby had entered the conference room and had heard the end of his conversation.

"We've found Don?"

"Maybe. A male just called in and gave us this address." He said as he copied the address onto the whiteboard.

"I'll get my kit."

"No. We're too far away." David said. He wanted to go just as badly but even at this early hour it would take far too long for them to reach the area. He worked at his computer as he spoke. "We have to call in our agents and have them ready to move on Wright's order."

Colby started dialling Control to pass on the order as Wright walked in the door.

"Where's the warehouse?" Wright asked.

David crossed the room and pointed at the map he'd projected onto the large screen. "1084 West Rialto Avenue is right here." He went back to the computer and zoomed out a little.

Wright tapped the screen at a spot quite a few blocks away. "SWAT are holding here. How many agents do you have nearby?"

Colby, listening with one ear answered this one. "Control are calling for sitreps, so far we have twelve agents within ten blocks."

Wright considered the map a moment longer before tapping a spot. "Have them meet up here and be ready to roll in five minutes. I'll hand coordination over to Agent King." Pulling out a cell phone he moved away a few steps and started issuing orders to the SWAT commander.

"David! What's going on? Have you found Don?" Charlie demanded.

David spun and saw Charlie and Alan standing at the door to the conference room, Charlie restrained from entering by his father's ever cautious hand on his arm. They would have heard his shout to Colby.

"We had a phone call from someone saying that Don was in a warehouse on West Rialto." He answered, the full address was clearly displayed on the whiteboard behind him.

"1084?" Alan read out. "That's the warehouse that's being demolished for the community centre. Oh my God, this _is_ about my project!"

David moved forward in concern as the older man staggered forwards a few steps and collapsed into the nearest chair. "Mr Eppes, are you alright?"

"Oh, my God. What have I done?" Alan lamented. "Donny's in trouble because of me."

"Mr Eppes, Alan, it's not your fault." David soothed in concern. He looked up at Charlie then back at the older man. "We're about to get him out. I have to go, Charlie can you-?"

"We're staying." Charlie was uncharacteristically firm.

With no time to argue David nodded. He turned back to concentrate on the task at hand as Charlie perched on the edge of the table next to his father. They silently watched as the agents worked to obtain as much information about the building they were about to raid as possible with just a few minutes to work with.

Colby set up the radio bank mounted at the front of the room, switching to the frequency chosen for this operation. Control was to be bypassed, all comms for the raid would now go through here. Abruptly they were ready and Wright gave the order to go over the radio. There was nothing more any of them could do but wait and listen to the calls as the teams moved in under King's coordination.

-100-1111-1110-

At the sound of the shot Don desperately changed course, attempting to zigzag and present a difficult target for the next round he expected to be sent his way. He almost stumbled and fell but kept his footing through sheer willpower. His legs, stiff from being bound together for so long didn't want to cooperate and move him at full speed or agility despite the adrenalin surging through his system.

He made it to the safety of the shadows at the side of the shed and stopped for a second, controlling his breathing to listen for sounds of pursuit. He heard a raised voice and recognised Guerra.

"Idiot!" There was a meaty thud, someone had been hit. "Get after him."

Don moved, hearing three sets of running footsteps approaching quickly. Looking wildly around he saw a narrow, long warehouse offering deeper shadows a short distance away. More importantly the other shed was almost up against the wire fence surrounding the warehouse yard. The agent crossed the open space as quickly as he could, with each step hearing the men behind him getting closer.

He was in the dark and moving a little slower along the back of the second shed, unable to stop and scale the fence as he'd intended due to his pursuers closing in on him. He suddenly realised something was wrong, there were only two sets of running feet behind him. Forced nevertheless to keep running he reached the edge of the warehouse and set his sights on another shed a short distance ahead. As he took the first step in the open he was slammed into from his left, the third man had gone around the shed to come at him from the side. All he saw was the man's outline as he was hit with a solidly set shoulder. The technique was incredibly effective, one that he himself had often used on offenders. Unprepared, Don was knocked off his feet and into the fence, bouncing off before going down hard. He stayed down, winded from the impact.

He may have been down but he was not ready to give up. Don coughed and forced some air into his starved lungs. Another breath and he got his feet and hands under him and started to scramble upwards. He was going to turn his rise into a charge, aiming for the man that had dropped him and who was now standing in his way. But he was too late, the other two gang-bangers had reached him and he made it only halfway to his feet before a kick to his midsection sent him sprawling. Once again he was lying on the ground gasping for air. He took a moment to assess himself and determined that the kick, though painful and effective, hadn't done any serious damage.

Even more determined he got himself moving again but this time a gun was pressed firmly against the side of his head. The barrel wasn't cold, it was the weapon that had been fired at him moments before. Depending on the calibre there could be up to sixteen more rounds with his name on them. He froze.

Hands grabbed at his arms and he was hauled to his feet. The gun was pressed back against his head once he was up. He couldn't help but tense and pull against the hands holding him but they held firm. The figure that had shoulder charged him stepped up and Don recognised Guerra before his attention was drawn to the gun the gang-banger now held aimed at him.

"Not bad for a fed." Guerra started, rotating his shoulder briefly to loosen it up after the impact. "We're supposed to bring you back alive but next time you run there might be an accident. Ramone missed, I won't."

Don didn't respond to the warning, continuing to strain against the two holding him despite the gun at his head. He knew he wasn't going anywhere but wanted the men's hands off him.

Guerra didn't think his message had made it through. It was time to make things a little clearer for the fed. He stepped closer, pressing his gun against the agent's chest. He raised his other hand, one finger extended and rested it on his own cheek below his left eye. He saw the fed's eyes narrow as the man recognised the mark there. "I'm owed some payback."

The agent recognised the small tattoo of a teardrop beneath Guerra's eye. Someone close to the man had died violently, the crisp edges showing in the helpful light of a nearby streetlight suggested recently. The tattoo was a sign of a blood debt. It hadn't been filled in, the hollow tear meaning that the debt had not yet been paid. There was a dangerous glint forming in the gang-banger's eyes.

"One of yours killed my brother." Guerra snarled, punctuating his words with a hard shove of his gun. A click and the safety was removed. Arrio had only been buried last month, Guerra's rage was still fresh and raw. He had intended only to intimidate the fed but now he was in the moment and only too happy to carry through. "So make it happen, Fed." He challenged. He knew his boss, for a blood debt Che Lobo would understand.

It didn't take running through his options for Don to come to the obvious conclusion that he didn't stand a chance. One gun against his head and another pressing into his chest didn't leave him any choices. Relaxing his arms he looked Guerra in the eye making his surrender into a challenge of his own. "Not today."

"Perhaps another then." Guerra taunted, the debt was still owed and the man he was currently holding at gunpoint was a worthy target. Abruptly he controlled himself and stepped back. Disappointed though he was at the fed's backing down he had still achieved a victory having gained control over him.

"Perhaps." Don responded determined to show that he was not afraid of the 18th Street Mexicali.

Guerra grinned in response. His earlier doubts that the agent would beg for his life when held at gunpoint were vindicated. That settled it for him, when Che Lobo was finished with the fed he was going to come hunting. He'd heard a lot about this hard-assed fed but this had been the first time he'd met him. He'd originally set his sights on the sandy haired agent at the club earlier, touching that man's gun to gauge his reflexes. That agent was good but killing this one would boost his cred that much more. He would not remain on loan to Che Lobo forever; soon he would be making his move for the leadership of the Mexicalis. Allowing his murderous thoughts to show in his eyes he gave it another moment so the fed could be sure. When the fed's eyes again narrowed he slid the safety back into position and tucked his gun back into his jeans. He jerked his head back the way they'd come.

Don for his part knew that he'd been looking into the eyes of a man wanting to kill him but who was for some reason being forced to hold back. When this was over he was going to have to take some steps, Guerra was serious when he suggested they would be continuing this another day. The gang-banger had been only too successful in letting the agent know he'd been chosen to repay the blood debt.

For now though he allowed himself to be manhandled around and walked back to the SUV he'd seen before he'd made his break. Ramone's gun was still out and now pressed sharply against his side as he walked. From the additional deliberate hard jabs he received as they moved he knew he had a second special friend in Che Lobo's crew. The split lip Ramone had received for shooting at the agent hadn't helped any. Don knew Colby and the others in his team were safe, having worked to get the gangster's son back. He hadn't been there, his cell switched off at Bradford's insistence. Che Lobo owed Don Eppes no favours. Why his crew were here the agent hadn't a clue.

Reaching the vehicle he was shoved none too gently into the back seat, Ramone crowding quickly in behind him to again painfully jab the gun into his ribs. He was going to be covered in bruises by sunup, providing he lived that long. The other two men climbed into the front seats and there was a clunk as the door locks were engaged. There would be no escaping from the moving vehicle. Accepting the inevitable Don reached around slowly and pulled the seatbelt across himself, waiting a moment until Ramone moved slightly and allowed the agent to buckle up.

The SUV started with a rumble and moved out onto the street and turned left heading towards central LA. They had rolled barely a hundred yards before Guerra abruptly swore and the SUV suddenly accelerated, the powerful non-standard engine easily forcing the heavy vehicle along.

Looking up Don saw that the gangster's attention was directed behind them. Turning his head the agent saw a number of vehicles with flashing red and blue lights converging on the warehouse. Rescue had been that close, another few moments and he would have been safe. As they continued accelerating down the road he watched in disappointment and frustration as the raid went ahead, the agents not realising that their quarry was being taken away right under their noses.

A sudden screech of brakes sounded right beside them. He looked out his window in time to see a black sedan slide away behind them, tyres smoking as it came to a stop in the street. More smoke appeared as the sedan spun its wheels to make a hasty U-turn and start after them, red and blue lights flashing, its siren barely heard through the SUV's closed windows. The SUV leapt forwards, the engine note turning into a snarl as they took a corner and powered away. The agent looked back and saw the sedan following in a four wheel power slide. The car stuck with them through the next corner.

The FBI was in pursuit.

.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

**CHAPTER TEN**

-100-1-10110-1001-100-

"Say again?" David demanded into the radio.

"_9745 in pursuit, black SUV departing target area, refusing to stop."_ The agent summed up. In the background could be heard the sound of screeching tyres and a high revving engine.

"Can you see into the SUV?"

"_Not clearly. We count four heads."_

"Tags?"

"_We can't get close enough."_

"Call your position. I'll get units headed to intercept." David barely heard the reply as he was distracted by the other radio.

"_They'll need to be quick."_ The agent reported. _"The SUV's been seriously worked, we're losing it."_

"Stay with it!" David ordered. The call on the other radio was that the warehouse was empty, the only sign that the senior agent had been there was some freshly cut rope lying on the floor amongst some still warm blankets. They'd cleared the building in record time and were about to start a forensic sweep whilst others patrolled the grounds. The kidnapped agent was gone but they hadn't missed him by much. The SUV was now target number one. It was in the right place at the right time and by failing to stop the occupants of the vehicle had drawn their attention to it as if they had set off a flare.

"_Left onto Locust Avenue."_ 9745 called.

"Colby, get a helicopter into the area."

"_Right onto Orange Way to Frankfort Street."_

Colby dived for a phone and called the LAPD number he'd used before. Luck was with them, there was a helicopter in the air and five minutes away. The machine was diverted and placed under the FBI's instruction. Colby gave them a radio frequency used during joint operations so that they could control the helicopter directly. He switched the second bank of radios to that channel.

"_Left, Dorsey Way."_ The call continued. _"Right, Laurel Avenue."_

"_LAPD Tango-2 for FBI."_ A second voice called at the same time.

"Tango-2 this is FBI." Colby replied taking over the radio as Wright and David put their heads together. "Pursuit in progress, black SUV currently on Laurel Avenue, Rialto. General progress westwards. We believe the vehicle contains our kidnapped federal agent."

"_Left on Valencia Avenue."_

From the rapid turns it was clear the SUV was working to lose the pursuers. Fortunately for the moment the FBI sedan appeared to be able to maintain visual contact despite earlier stating they were about to loose it. By sticking to the tight surface streets the driver of the SUV was unknowingly shifting the odds more towards the FBI's favour, where the ability of the trained driver to take turns outweighed the power of the pursued vehicle. If they moved to a long straight stretch the balance would shift the other way. Colby just hoped that wouldn't occur to the driver of the SUV.

Colby noted a change on the screen above his head and looked up quickly to see a map of the pursuit appear. A red line was following the progress as called, a black dot marked '9745' at its head. Glancing over he saw Charlie working at the computer terminal. It was against the conditions under which Charlie was allowed into the building but no one cared at the moment.

"_Roger that, FBI. Proceeding from Riverside." _The pilot responded. Another blip appeared on the screen with the notation 'T-2', a blue track extending behind it.

"I'm going to link you in, stand-by." Colby turned to the bank of switches at the side of the radio panel and adjusted several of them allowing the helicopter to directly listen to the pursuit for immediate location reports.

"_Left, Alder Avenue, heading for the railway lines."_ The call continued. _"Crossed the lines. Loosing them on the straightaway!"_

"_Tango-2 receiving link."_ The helicopter reported.

"Any units able to assist?" Colby demanded over the link. It seemed the pursued driver had realised where his advantage lay.

"_7723. Proceeding south along Cedar Avenue. We'll hit the 10 and head west."_

"_2941. We're westbound on Rialto, we'll take Sierra toward the 10."_

On the map above two more black dots appeared with green tracks following their movements.

"_9745. They've turned." _

"Where?" Colby insisted after a long second went by without a location.

"_9745. Stand-by, they're a long way ahead. Got it, right onto Valley Boulevard. Loosing them, where's that chopper?"_

"_Tango-2. Passing El Rivino Country Club, estimate ETA one minute."_

David and Colby were checking the map on the big screen trying to calculate speed, distances and probable escape routes. Charlie's drawing of the paths of the FBI units and the LAPD helicopter were a great help in visualising the pursuit area and to decide on the best way to vector in their units.

"2941, continue on Rialto." David instructed taking the radio handset. "Take a left onto Cherry down to the 10. We need to be further ahead."

"_2941, received."_

Wright finished a call that had come through on his cell. "Don't loose that SUV."

"What did they find?" David asked, the call could only have been from the agents at the warehouse.

"They found an old van with a small amount of blood in it. The type matches Agent Eppes."

The implications of that barely had time to sink in before the report they'd been dreading.

"_9745. Lost them, repeat lost them."_

"Did they turn?" David demanded.

"_9745. I don't think so, there's other traffic. All we got are taillights in the distance."_

"Are any turning off?"

"_9745. Two going left, another going right, the rest straight on. We can't tell which is which, they're all too far away."_

"_7723. Approaching the 10. Instructions?"_

"Take the 10, proceed west." David ordered. The SUV's path had tended toward the freeway, he had to assume it had taken the turn onto the ramp. The freeway was historically the escape route of choice for offenders involved in pursuits. But just in case, "9745 continue straight on."

"_Tango-2. Tracking west over the 10."_ The helicopter finally reported. _"Any further description of the vehicle?"_

"_9745. Current model black Chevy Suburban, plenty of chrome, silver low profile mag wheels, dark windows."_

"_Tango-2. Roger that. Nil contacts."_

"_2941 on the 10, westbound."_

A few minutes went by in tense silence before the next report.

"_9745. We're running out of road, about to hit North Etiwanda Avenue."_

"Tango-2, report." David called.

"_Tango-2, nil contacts matching description. Currently tracking north of Ontario Airport, affected by airspace restrictions."_

David consulted the map and read off the street names where the red track line stopped. "Tango-2, return to Valley Boulevard vicinity of Alder and Palmetto Avenues and commence search pattern. They may have turned off and be attempting to hide on surface streets."

"_Tango-2. Proceeding."_

"9745, return to vicinity of Alder Avenue and conduct sweep of all side streets."

"_9745, received."_

"2941, remain on the 10. Report when you reach the cloverleaf at Orange Freeway."

"_2941, received."_

The minutes dragged by without any sightings. LAPD ground units had joined the search but they had no luck. 2941 reached the cloverleaf and was recalled and sent into the search area. The units continued their hunt as David, Colby and Wright exchanged glances mulling over the last piece of information from the warehouse. The three agents then couldn't help but look over at the brother and the father of the missing agent.

The SUV was gone. Someone else had beaten them to the warehouse and had taken Don. And they had no idea who it was.

Or why.

-100-1111-1110-

As the SUV began taking quick turns Don was only too happy he'd decided to buckle himself in, even so he wedged himself into the seat as best he could and took a firm hold of the handle inside the door. He was about as braced as he could be, the same could not be said about Ramone however. The gang-banger wasn't secured and was being flung about as the SUV slid around the corners. There was a particularly heart stopping moment after the first couple of corners when the gang-banger suddenly slid towards the agent weapon first to end up virtually on his lap. The weapon painfully struck Don's ribs before being deflected downwards, muzzle pointed at a delicate portion of his anatomy. Without taking any advantage of the moment the gang-banger extricated himself before sensibly tucking his weapon away, enabling him to move back to the opposite side of the vehicle and grab his own handle.

Breathing a little better now that the weapon was secured Don tried to keep track of where they were as well as whether or not the pursuing vehicle was able to stay on their tail. Unable to see the street signs as they took the corners he could only be satisfied that their driver was making a classic mistake, choosing to try to lose the FBI sedan in the tight streets rather than a flat out run. Unfortunately Guerra was quick on the uptake and realised what was happening.

"There!" Guerra pointed at the next intersection. "Go left then hit it."

"But-" The driver, who's name Don had still not caught, objected.

"Straight down towards the 10." Guerra elaborated. "They got nothin' that can touch us."

The driver forced the vehicle, tyres screeching, around the tight left and pressed his foot flat to the floor, the engine note rapidly climbing as they accelerated. With a sinking heart Don looked back and saw that the distance between the SUV and the FBI sedan was rapidly extending. If they continued on this path the pursuit was over.

A sign flashed by indicating that they were approaching the 10 and had to divert onto a parallel road before they could take an on-ramp. They braked heavily before turning right and starting to accelerate away.

"In there, turn there." Guerra abruptly ordered before they'd gone very far.

The SUV again braked heavily before turning right into a set of narrow streets. They were forced to move slowly as they made the first turn to the right which took them behind a row of houses. They were now hidden from the road that Don had finally recognised as Valley Boulevard. Their driver doused the large vehicle's lights and continued slowly and carefully, the engine reduced to a deep rumbling. They turned again and were facing Valley Boulevard once again.

"Pull over for a moment." Guerra ordered.

The SUV pulled into the curb, stopping beneath a larger overhanging tree and behind a vehicle already parked there. A moment later a black sedan flashed past on Valley, flashing red and blue lights indicating that it was their pursuer.

Everyone's attention was fixed out through the SUV's windshield. Don moved his right hand slowly towards the door release and pulled gently confirming that the door was locked. There was still another option, still moving slowly he reached for the window button and pressed downwards. He was rewarded with the window sliding open. Unfortunately the sound of the window motor was too loud in the vehicle's cabin and drew the attention of his captors before it had slid more than two inches. Abruptly it stopped as Guerra stabbed his finger downwards on the child lock button.

Ramone reacted by reaching for his gun until stopped by a word from Guerra. Ramone instead had to satisfy himself with moving towards the centre position and belting himself in where he could easily grab the agent if needed.

"That was your last chance, Fed." Guerra stated flatly as he raised the window.

"Worth a shot." Don responded, earning a grunt in reply.

Guerra turned his attention back to the windshield, winding his own window down as he listened to what was happening around them. In the distance could be heard several other sirens and fainter but growing rapidly louder came the sound of a helicopter. As the machine came closer they finally got a direction on it and four heads turned towards the sound.

From the bright spotlight aimed downwards Don came to the conclusion that it had to be an LAPD helicopter heading in to join the pursuit. They may have been too late for that but would now be actively searching for their vehicle. Glancing directly upwards the agent saw that the overhanging tree would be only too effective at keeping them concealed if it were to pass over them. The helicopter however swept westwards on a track somewhere between Valley Boulevard and the 10 disappearing into the distance, quickly fading from vision and hearing.

"Let's go. Nice and easy, don't draw their attention to us."

The last order was pretty useless Don thought. The description of the SUV would be out on the air and all it would take was for them to be passed by either an FBI vehicle or by a local LEO and it would be on again. He hoped that they would be spotted before they'd left the area, police units further afield were unlikely to have followed the action or have noted the vehicle description as precisely. In LA, optioned SUVs were a dime a dozen making this one blend into the crowd.

The vehicle pulled out and cautiously approached the intersection back on Valley Boulevard. An inspection of the traffic flowing both ways revealed no possible impediments to their escape. They made the turn and started back the way they'd come. There were a couple of occasions where they stopped in shadows with the lights off as a vehicle involved in the search moved by. The flashing lights on the LAPD and federal vehicles made them ridiculously easy to spot, long before the officers or agents could see the black SUV in the night allowing the fugitives time to slide off into the dark. Fifteen minutes later they were well out of Rialto in the clear.

.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

-100-1-10110-1001-100-

"What's happened?" Alan demanded looking at each of the three agents in turn, not liking the expression on their faces. "Who's taken my son?"

David unconsciously licked his lips as he glanced at Wright for guidance or perhaps inspiration. "Alan, you know as much as we do at this time. We're waiting to hear from the scene. Hopefully they will have more for us soon."

"Hopefully?" Alan picked up. His voice rose. "You-"

"Mr Eppes," Wright interrupted. "We are working as best we can to bring Agent Eppes home. We need to let the agents in the field work, they will be reporting in as soon as they get anything."

"We're also still working the project angle." David explained. "I've still got a team out there trying to dig up what they can on why anyone would have targeted you over the development."

"But that doesn't explain who has taken Don now." Charlie pointed out.

"No it doesn't." David agreed. "But it is all we have to work with for now. Maybe once we find who took him first we'll be able to figure out who took him from them. Colby, take Alan and Charlie back to the breakroom. Alan, I want you to go over your project with Colby, every detail that you can remember."

Alan looked like he wanted to protest but this time it was Charlie that calmed him down. He was more familiar with the workings of the FBI and understood David's request on both levels. _One_, David wanted them out of the war room whilst they continued to work and _two_, going over the project could result in a lead they would be able to follow up on. "Dad, come on. They need to work and to do that they need to know everything about your community centre."

Alan was obviously still reluctant, wanting to hear any news the moment it came in but he could see that what Charlie said made sense. If the FBI were to investigate and determine who could have taken his eldest son they needed information to work with. Even though he had no ideas he would do everything he could to help them help his son.

As he watched the three walk away David remembered Colby's meeting with Che Lobo Santiago. He couldn't help but wonder whether the fact that a known gangster was involved in the situation could have had anything to do with the latest developments. It was not unheard of for gang-bangers to actively target cops, especially if they knew where one was without backup. His worrisome thoughts were interrupted by the ring of a cell phone and he turned back to see Wright place the device against his ear.

"You have?" The Assistant Director questioned in a surprised tone. "Yes. … Yes, bring him straight here. What has he told you so far? … I see, okay."

"Sir?"

"They've found a juvenile hanging around inside the warehouse perimeter. Seems he may know who took Agent Eppes."

"Who?" David demanded definitely not liking the grim expression forming on Wright's face.

"Gang-bangers."

David suddenly got a very bad feeling. "Mexicalis?"

"No colours. The juvenile recognised the type, said they looked dangerous and were driving a, ah, 'pimped' I believe the word was, a pimped SUV. Sound like anyone we know?"

"Santiago?" That information could point to him, but it could also indicate half the wealthy population of LA on both sides of the law.

"According to your report earlier he told Granger he was aware of Agent Eppes' abduction."

"You think-" Clearly Wright was on the same wavelength.

"I don't know what to think, Sinclair. They're bringing the juvenile in as soon as they can round up a parent or a responsible adult. Then we might get some answers."

David glanced back over towards the breakroom. "Should we get Colby to call Santiago?"

"And say what? Ask nicely if he has our agent?"

David had to admit that would be problematic, if Santiago had Don he could simply deny everything and do anything to him. If he didn't the last thing the FBI needed to do was alert a criminal of their lack of knowledge as to what was happening under their own noses. That sort of thing could give the gangster free reign. No, for the moment they had to let things settle, wait for this child to be brought in and see what he could tell them.

-100-1111-1110-

They had been driving for some time now, moving generally northwest heading towards the rarefied heights of the rich and famous. The streets were quieter, narrower and started taking circuitous routes up the hillsides. If you weren't familiar with the streets, as Don wasn't, it was ridiculously easy to become turned around and lost. The agent tried to fix as many landmarks in his mind as he could, hoping to pick out something familiar in the process, unlikely as he rarely had to come up here for work and certainly had no reason to outside of work.

Glancing at his watch as they turned into another street he saw with some surprise that it was after 4am. It had truly been a long night and he'd now been up for well over twenty-four hours, his brief sleep at the warehouse notwithstanding. The longer they drove the harder it was to keep his mind focussed and sharp. Fortunately it was only a few minutes later that they pulled to a stop outside a set of ornate metal gates set in a long, high solid block wall on top of which were mounted prominent surveillance cameras. Realising that they had arrived at what had to be Che Lobo's residence he was able to mentally slap himself awake, things were about to happen.

A man stepped around the side of the gate cautiously, a hand inside his jacket, the other shielding his eyes from the SUVs headlights until they were dipped. Recognising the vehicle he waved briefly before stepping aside, hand reaching towards a box on top of a pole beside him. Seconds later the gates swung open allowing them to drive inside. The SUV continued up towards the house before swinging to one side and driving into an opening garage. The door slid closed behind them as the engine was shut down. That took away another opportunity for the agent to attempt escape, trapped now inside the building.

"Now, we can stick a gun in your back," Guerra started, turning back to eye his captive. "Or you can walk on your own. Up to you."

Don eyed him back, keeping his thoughts carefully locked away. He had a fair idea which option Guerra preferred. From his point of view given those choices the one without the gun in his back sounded best. He casually undid his seatbelt, hiding a wince as he did so and allowed it to retract. Though he was taking pains not to show it the kick to his midsection was bothering him, not badly enough to indicate any serious damage but he was uncomfortable. "I think I can manage."

If Guerra was disappointed he kept it to himself, pressing the button to unlock the doors and climbing out. Don waited a moment as to appear cooperative, so it was only when Guerra had come around his side of the vehicle and looked in his direction that he pulled at the door handle and climbed out keeping his movements careful and obvious. They waited for Ramone to come around the back of the SUV before Guerra waved him forwards, indicating that he was to once again follow the driver. Upon reaching the door however Guerra closed up and held the door open before allowing the agent to proceed through, he'd been caught out once, it wasn't going to happen again.

For his part, Don gave no indication that he was doing anything other than what he was directed. He would wait for another opportunity to present itself, until then he wasn't going to do something to worsen his predicament if he could help it. A gun in his back or being restrained would severely limit his options.

As they moved through the house he looked around at the opulent setting, the expensive furniture and objects that he assumed had to be artwork based on the fact he couldn't figure out what else they could be. It was not the first time that he had seen evidence that crime in fact did pay, at least until you were caught anyway. As they progressed he saw the occasional man walking around on obvious security duty but otherwise the house was silent and mostly dark. Up ahead however was a brightly lit room, the spill of light showing that the walls on the hall outside were covered with framed records of both gold and platinum indicating the various successes of Che Lobo's label.

Guerra abruptly pulled on Don's arm forcing him to stop before entering the room. "Wait."

"Sure." Don replied easily, affecting a bored tone and turning away dismissively but not before noting the expression on Guerra's face. He was playing a dangerous game, risking antagonising a man who wanted nothing more than to kill him but Don had to maintain a certain level of face. As with the kids back at the warehouse, showing any weakness would be his undoing.

There was the murmur of low voices in the room, the agent listened but couldn't make out what was being said as he pretended to be idly studying one of the framed records on the wall. Guerra soon reappeared at the door and jerked his head towards the interior of the room. Keeping in character Don took his time, raising an eyebrow before stepping through the door to meet the supposedly straight and supposedly former 18th Street Mexicali.

The man behind the desk stood and stepped forwards extending his right hand as if this was just some business meeting conducted at 4:30 in the morning, as you do. Playing along Don took the offered hand and shook once, his grip firm.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Agent Eppes." Che Lobo Santiago's tone was open and cheerful. He smiled and shrugged. "Never thought I'd say that to a fed but there it is."

"I'm sure." Don replied, his tone in turn was light but guarded.

"Please, sit."

He would have preferred to stand but there was nothing for it but to sit and appear comfortable in his surroundings. Once settled he decided to open discussions. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I like a man who gets straight down to business." The other commented as he also sat, leaning confidently back in his chair. "I'm doing our friend Colby a favour."

That was a surprise, Don couldn't figure why Colby had come to the gangster seeking help on this or even how he'd been allowed to do so. But the gangster's comment indicated that things may not be as dire as he'd thought, Che Lobo owed Colby. "And exactly what might that favour be?"

At the other man's sudden brief frown Don realised that he'd just revealed something to the gangster through his poorly framed question that he'd barely acknowledged even to himself. Despite everything that had happened in the year just gone he still had some trust issues regarding Colby Granger. The younger agent had proven himself time and again but he just couldn't shake the persistent niggle that Colby had already fooled them all once and could do so again.

Che Lobo decided to let it pass, any issues between the two feds were their problem not his. He provided the explanation the agent was seeking. "He returned my son to me. I was made aware of what had happened to you and saw the opportunity to repay the favour he'd done me by returning someone of importance to him."

"'Made aware', how?"

Che Lobo grinned slyly. "I have my sources. Those who hear interesting things, valuable things, pass them on to me. I sometimes choose to act on them." During this conversation, at least, he was completely honest in what he was and that wasn't a mere record producer.

"Uh huh." So it hadn't come directly from Colby then, the gangster had found out about his kidnapping from somewhere else. The faint suspicion that had risen moments ago subsided. "So this was a rescue of sorts?"

Che Lobo frowned at the way Don had phrased the question, glancing at Guerra but there was nothing to be read there. Perhaps the quick story he'd received had not covered everything. Looking closely he noted the dirt on the fed's clothes, the graze on the side of his face, the bloodied wrists and the way he slightly favoured his right side. "Of course."

"Yeah, well, if your goons had left well enough alone for another two minutes I would have been back at the Field Office by now. I didn't need your rescuing."

"So I've been told." Che Lobo said. His opinion firmed, the fed must have put up a fight when Guerra stepped in and that Guerra, or the others, had responded. Eppes did not appear too happy at what had been done for him. Che Lobo could see the point, it would be hard for a fed to accept help from the very people he was sworn to take down. "But my boys were told to bring you back so that is what they did. I understand that Ramone's cousin was thinking of offing you. We couldn't afford to wait."

Reminded of Hector's likely intentions Don had to admit that the man had an all too valid argument. The gangster was not to know that the FBI had zeroed in on the agent's location and were about to raid the warehouse. Waiting could have given Hector the time he'd needed to work himself up to using the gun.

"Okay, so I'm rescued. What now?" He tried not to sound too ungrateful, given Hector's actions it seemed likely Guerra's timing was impeccable. "You going to call me a cab?"

Laughing out loud Che Lobo turned to Guerra. "The man wants a cab, up here!"

Seeing the point, the agent played along, allowing a smile to touch his lips. "A limo will do just as well."

Another laugh. "I think I like you, Agent Eppes."

"I can't say the same, but I do appreciate your help this evening." Don said honestly but carefully. He could have done without being assaulted and forced away from rescue at gunpoint but in the circumstances, to this point at least, he'd gotten away lightly.

"Like I said, I owe a favour. Che Lobo always pays his debts."

At the reminder about debts Don couldn't help glancing at Guerra. The showdown earlier had indicated he'd been marked for payback, the glare coming his way now confirmed it. He forced his attention away. "So, no cab or limo, hmm?"

"Nah, I think we'll organise something else for you."

.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

-11-1000-1-10010-1100-1001-101-

Colby's questions were relentless but Charlie's father answered them as patiently as he could, going over and over the development of the community centre in Rialto. As he listened with half an ear Charlie tried not to appear impatient while he waited for David to come running over with good news, bad news or any news at all. But no matter how many times a minute he looked over towards the war room nothing happened.

"So have the approvals gone through for the second centre, the one for kids?" Colby was asking.

"Just about. Some of the councillors want to hold out to see the first stage completed and running before signing off on the second."

"No hard line objectors?"

Alan thought for a minute. The meetings had all been remarkably civil, a community centre could only be good for the area. No, their concerns were mainly in the areas of construction costs and the design, not of the centre itself. He told Colby that before adding, "Are you sure there is nothing else we could be doing?"

"We are doing everything that we can, Alan."

"It's always like this. Sometimes we," Charlie corrected himself, "_they_, just have to go over and over all the data to find the key. I really could help, Colby. I could apply some expressions-"

"Charlie," Colby sighed and shook his head. "You can't help other than by helping your father. That's the way it is. Look, I've got everything I need for now. I better get started."

"The moment you get anything," Alan started as Colby stood.

"You'll be the first to know." The young agent assured. He nodded at Charlie before stepping out and heading back towards the war room.

"I don't like this, Charlie." Alan said standing and following the agent with his gaze as he made his way across the near deserted office. "They know something they're not telling us."

-11-1111-1100-10-11001-

Walking back into the room Colby was suddenly fixed with two penetrating gazes. His steps faltered and he stopped. "What?"

David spoke first. "You said Santiago got his intel from kids?"

"Yeah, he did. Through his own son."

"What exactly did you tell Santiago?" Wright demanded.

Colby didn't like the tone of that question, not at all. "Sir, _he_ told me that Don had been kidnapped. He knew all about it and wanted to pass the information on as a favour."

"And what did you ask him to do about it?"

"As I told David, I asked him if he could tell us who the kids were that had given him the information. He refused to say. All he would do was make 'a suggestion'. I did get the feeling that he knew more than he was letting on, that he probably knew who was holding Don." He looked to each man in turn. "What's going on?"

"They found a juvenile at the scene and are bringing him in." Wright supplied.

"You think this kid is one of the ones that Santiago was talking about?"

"Could be. He's told the agents that gang-bangers had taken Agent Eppes moments before the raid team arrived."

"What! You think Santiago-" Colby broke off and reached for the phone. He'd been given a number as a means of direct contact when the meeting concluded earlier. With a quick call they would soon know if Don was safe.

"Colby, wait." David pressed down on the button, disconnecting the phone. "Let's hear what the kid has to say before we tip Santiago off. We need to know more about what is going on before we go off half-cocked."

"But," Colby started before stopping at the firm expressions on the other two agents' faces. He'd spent a lot of time with the gangster and felt that he had a solid handle on the man. If Santiago had involved himself directly then it should mean that Don was safe. But the other agents, especially AD Wright, had seniority on him and Colby knew he had to back down. He replaced the handset without further argument. "How long before they get here?"

"Should be any time now."

"Have a surveillance team set up on Santiago." Wright ordered.

Colby nodded and attended to the arrangements. By the time he'd finished making the calls the elevator dinged and out walked a pair of agents escorting a woman and a young boy. They were escorted to an interview room before one of the agents reported in at the war room.

"Agent Phillips, sir. The boy's name is Ruiz Cubero, the mother is Maria Gonzales." He reported. The difference in family names didn't raise any interest, such things were common. "He is thirteen years old and has already told us that he along with some other kids were the ones who kidnapped Agent Eppes from Professor Eppes' house."

"They what?" David was incredulous. "Kids?" Despite his earlier comment to Charlie that even an agent as good as Don was could be tired and have let his guard down it was big shock that his assailants may not have even been adults, that the kids were the actual perpetrators.

The other agent nodded. "That's what he claims. He and another four juveniles, some older and at least one even younger, had staked out Professor Eppes' house waiting for Alan Eppes. They attacked Agent Eppes thinking he was his father and took him to the warehouse before realising their mistake."

"Five kids held an agent against his will?"

"Apparently there were more waiting at the warehouse and some of them were armed with knives. They'd knocked Agent Eppes out with a baseball bat on the sidewalk and had bound him."

"Unbelievable." David breathed, shaking his head. The problem was, now that he'd gotten over the shock, it was totally believable. They'd had cases where kids had committed murder so there was no reason why kidnapping a federal agent was out of the realm of possibility.

"Yeah." Phillips agreed. He'd been around and seen a lot of offences committed by juveniles, but this out-right kidnapping and holding of an adult by juveniles as young as some of these boys were was a first for him.

"What's he said about the gang-bangers who took Agent Eppes?" Wright asked.

"He doesn't know them, but apparently when the juveniles scattered he heard one of them say that he recognised one of the men as a cousin to one of the boys. He thinks the name was 'Roman' or something like that, perhaps 'Ramone'." He reported getting quickly back on track. He held out a pad on which he'd been scribbling his notes on the way over. "We've been running a micro and the child's been Mirandized. His mother is on side and has waived legal representation. Do you want to take it over?"

David glanced at Wright who through his expression gave the choice back to him. He made his decision. "You do it, clearly you've developed a rapport with the boy and will probably get more out of him."

"I used to work juvenile crime." Phillips explained. He knew how to talk to children.

"Then run with it. Keep us updated with what you get so we can run it down as you go."

"Sure." The agent retreated to start the interview.

"I'm going to call Lieutenant Walker." David announced. "He'll be able to tell us whether there is a 'Roman' or a 'Ramone' in the 18th Street Mexicalis or tied up with Che Lobo Santiago."

"A name like that is too common." Colby commented. There was probably a Ramone in most of the gangs in LA. It turned out they didn't need the information from the Gang Taskforce leader. Colby's cell chose that moment to ring.

"_I think it is time for another meeting."_ The voice started. _"I have something for you."_

Colby snapped his fingers to attract the other agents' attention then indicated his cell phone. David dived for a fixed line to arrange a trace as Colby acknowledged the caller. "Che Lobo. What do you have?"

"_I think you know."_

He took a deep breath. "Is he safe?"

"_He's unharmed and ready to get back to the office."_

"Where is he?"

"_Same rules as before."_ Santiago ordered before saying anything further. The pause stretched, he seemed to be waiting.

"Uh, sure."

"_Come to the house alone."_

"But-" If Santiago was on the up and up Colby didn't see why there was a need for him to go alone.

"_Too many people can lead to misunderstandings. I think you would prefer to avoid that."_

The threat was veiled but clear enough. Colby still trusted the gangster but clearly Santiago was less sure about his men and how they would react to a team of agents appearing at the gates. Things had been tense enough last time, the wrought iron gates were no impediment if bullets started flying. "Alright, no one else. No wires. Just me." Colby repeated the instructions from his earlier meet. The phone abruptly went dead.

David shook his head, not enough time for the trace even though it had come through to a bureau issue cell phone cutting down most of the necessary lead time.

Colby relayed the other end of the call.

"Fits with what we know and suspect; Santiago has Agent Eppes." Wright mused. He fixed the junior-most agent with his gaze. "You think he'll just hand him over?"

"He has no reason not to." Colby said. "He sees this as doing me a favour and probably hopes to score some points in relation to the ongoing investigation into his activities."

Wright nodded, that did make some sense. But, "Why hasn't Eppes himself called us if he's not under duress?"

That one Colby didn't have an answer for. "I guess I need to go and find out."

-100-1111-1110-

In enforced silence Don had listened to Che Lobo's side of the call to Colby Granger. Now the 'arrange something else' comment made sense. It wouldn't be a cab or limo collecting him, but a bureau vehicle.

"See, Agent? I have no ulterior motives, you are free to go when your man gets here."

_But not before then?_ Don couldn't help asking himself. He kept his mouth shut as he decided not to push the issue. He could live, that being the operative term, with cooling his heels until then rather than provoking an unnecessary confrontation. Speaking of which, a glance back at his escort confirmed as he'd expected that Guerra was far from pleased with the planned release of the agent.

"Che Lobo," Guerra started.

The gangster-come-record producer held up a hand silencing the protest. "Cruz, see to our guest's needs. A beer perhaps, or something harder?"

"I'm fine."

"Then a coffee it is. Cruz." Che Lobo said, nodding towards the door with his head. The offer had not been a suggestion.

The agent rose and followed the newly identified driver from the office towards another section of the house, Ramone trailing ever watchfully close behind. Having already made the decision to let events play out he soon found himself in the kitchen. The fit out would have done a small restaurant proud and the coffee machine would not have looked out of place in an upscale Starbucks. He was waved to a stool as Cruz applied himself to the machine. A few minutes later Don was sipping at a truly excellent cup of coffee. As it should be, he'd caught a glimpse at the bag the beans had come from, Jamaican Blue Mountain Coffee, something way beyond his pay scale.

He gently shook his head at the surreal moment, here he was rescued from being held captive by kids and now being served coffee by gangsters who may or may not currently be holding him against his will. It was all too strange for any time of day let alone nearly five in the morning. He took another sip as he glanced out the large kitchen windows overlooking a patio area and noted that the sky was starting to brighten with the first light of dawn.

.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

-100-1-10110-1001-100-

"You're saying some gangster has taken my son?" Alan demanded in horror.

David held up a calming hand, this evening had been rough on the patriarch, on the whole Eppes family. This information would only make it harder. "Santiago-"

"Santiago?" Charlie pounced. "Che Lobo Santiago?"

"One and the same." David nodded before he brought them up to speed with Colby's meeting with the gangster.

"You never told us that before." Charlie's tone was accusing.

David winced slightly. It hadn't exactly been planned that they would withhold the information before now, it had just happened that way. Both he and Colby had independently come to the conclusion that it would only worry the family to know of the gangster's involvement. "I know. Look, that doesn't matter. What matters is that he rang a few minutes ago and told Colby that Don is with him. He's asked Colby to go get him."

"What did Don have to say about all this?"

That was the question he'd been dreading. Reluctantly David had to make the admission. "Nothing. We've not spoken to Don yet."

"But-" Charlie started but was interrupted before he could go any further.

"Let me get this straight," Alan started, talking over his youngest. "Don's been kidnapped a second time and now some criminal claims he's got my son and wants Colby to meet with him. What does he want?"

"There's been no demands. Colby has been asked to go and collect Don."

"Just like that."

"Just like that."

"Then we want to go too." Alan was firm.

"You can't. The deal is that Colby goes alone." As the words left his mouth he knew that he had undone much of what he'd just said trying to relieve their fears. They were his fears too but he didn't want to make things any worse than they were already by letting the two Eppes men know that.

"That doesn't sound so good." Charlie commented slowly, shaking his head.

"I know. I'm not thrilled either but it's what we have." David finally had to admit. "Look, Colby thinks Santiago is trying to do the right thing but is taking steps to protect himself. Just like he did before."

Charlie would know what he was talking about. Santiago had accepted the FBI's help to get his son back, revealing parts of his business that he would have wanted to keep hidden. That had been amply illustrated by the mysterious way that Santiago had been able to raise 3.2 million dollars cash in such a short span of time whilst Colby was with him on the proviso that no questions would be asked or answered. They had kept their side of the deal, their only concern at the time had been to recover the kidnapped boy. Charlie knew that back then, which would only help with understanding the reasons behind the way they were playing this now.

"So we wait." Charlie said a few moments later after thinking it through.

"We wait."

-11-1111-1100-10-11001-

As he drove quickly through the streets heading towards the San Antonio Heights area Colby wasn't sure what he was going to find at the end of his trip. He still felt that his read on Santiago was correct but the doubts expressed by both AD Wright and his own partner, David, had wormed their way into his mind and were refusing to give up without a fight.

His argument that Santiago would see this as a positive bargaining position could just as easily be seen in a very negative light. Santiago could try to use the agent in an attempt to halt the investigation into his affairs. Any move down that path would only fail but could have disastrous consequences for those that got in the way. The two theories were completely opposite but backed by the same set of meagre facts - Don Eppes had been taken by gang-bangers and Che Lobo Santiago claimed to have the agent. On Colby's side was the fact that Santiago had called him, not only volunteering the information but offering to return said potential bargaining chip apparently without strings. On the negative side was the simple fact of life that criminals don't try to save cops' lives, or if they did it came with the expectation of some serious payback.

Though less so than before, Colby was still sure that he was right. As he finally turned into Euclid Crescent, East Euclid he prepared himself for either eventuality.

Pulling to a stop at the gate he waited as a man stepped into sight and shone a flashlight at him through the windshield before it dropped and illuminated the vehicle tags. A moment later the gates swung open and Colby drove slowly through. He'd been here before so he continued up the drive towards the house that was being silhouetted by the increasingly pale sky. At the top he pulled to a stop, leaving the engine idling for a few seconds before resolutely shutting the SUV down. Whatever happened, leaving the engine running wasn't going to help any.

-100-1111-1110-

The phone in the kitchen rang. Cruz picked up the wireless handset and listened for a moment. "Your ride's here."

Don drank the last mouthful of the coffee, he didn't want that to go to waste, before standing.

Cruz came around the kitchen counter and led the way back to Che Lobo's office. Once again Ramone brought up the rear. Don shook off the uncomfortable feeling that engendered and strolled along in Cruz's wake. Upon reaching the record producer's office he was surprise not to see Guerra.

"He had other matters to attend to." Che Lobo provided after seeing the agent's raised eyebrow and glance at the spot Guerra had last been standing.

"I'm sure." Multiple meanings were clear in his tone.

"Whatever you and he have pending is none of my business."

The eyebrow again lifted. _Interesting_. The gangster-slash-record producer was distancing himself from the potential blood debt. By the same token that meant that there would be no restriction placed on any action that Don might take, pre-emptively or otherwise. To be precise there would be no restriction based on the I-saved-your-life-so-you-owe-me-and-mine argument. But still, something was owed.

"Keep a leash on your boy, Che Lobo."

"My favours for you are done, Agent. Colby is here and you are good to go. If you please?" He'd stood and now waved his arm back out the office in the general direction of the front of the house.

There was enough light now to make out details in the manicured garden surrounding the house, just as he could make out the identity of the driver in the regulation black SUV parked adjacent to the front door.

Colby stepped down, keeping his movements clear and steady but not to the point of being awkward, just telegraphing his moves so there would be no surprises that might upset an overzealous guard. Last time he'd been here there had been more than a few guards keeping a close watch on him. Just because he could only see the one this time didn't mean anything. He watched with relief as a familiar figure appeared on the steps above him.

"Colb." The less than formal form of address let the younger agent know that things were actually as they appeared.

"Boss." Relieved, Colby moved closer as Don and Che Lobo descended the stairs to the asphalt. The lone guard remained at the top. Colby glanced at the man before turning his attention to Santiago. "We good?"

The gangster waved his arm magnanimously. "He's all yours."

Risking the anger he'd seen earlier Colby asked the question. "What's this going to cost us?"

There was no anger this time. "You gave me back my son, I give you back your boss. I still owe you for Joe but this goes some way towards that debt."

"I understand."

"The debt is clear." Don said firmly. This link needed to be severed. It had worked for him in this case but there was to be no more. He was in enough trouble as it was internally in the bureau without having his team so closely connected to a high profile criminal currently under investigation.

"As you wish."

"Good." He considered a moment longer then added, "Don't forget what I said."

Che Lobo knew exactly what he meant. "Guerra is his own man. He can make his own choices." With that Che Lobo turned and climbed back up the stairs and in through the front door without a backward glance.

"Boss?" Colby asked in confusion, there was something going on.

"Let's roll. I think our welcome is done." The unfriendly glower from the guard and his movement to adjust the sit of the weapon in his belt served to illustrate the point.

It wasn't until they had cleared the gate and were on their way back down the hill towards Central LA and the Field Office that Colby asked the burning question. "What happened?"

Don responded with one of his own. A nagging worry could now be answered. "Where is Charlie? Is he alright?"

"He's fine. He's at the office with Mr Eppes."

"He wasn't hurt when I was taken?"

"He only saw taillights disappearing in the distance, he was too late to see what happened to you."

Don sighed and relaxed in relief. He'd been quietly worried that Charlie may have tried to intervene when he was taken. The kids had never mentioned it which he'd taken to be good news but now he finally knew. He stared out the windshield after running a tired hand down his face. He ignored the not so subtle hint as he really didn't feel like relating the story more times than he had to. A quick debrief at the Field Office into a digital recorder would do for now, then sleep before he compiled his statement. He rubbed his face, trying to keep himself awake when the relief of being safe was trying to drag him under.

Colby suddenly noticed the shallow cuts on Don's wrists. "Are you alright? The hospital-"

He looked at his wrists, having forgotten the injuries caused by Ramone's knife, which served to remind him of his other hurts. Taking a moment to assess himself he found that the warmth from the coffee he'd just drunk had gone some way to easing the pain in his torso. All in all he was remarkably well considering his night. "I'm fine. There's a first aid kit at the office. That will do."

"We raided the warehouse where you were being held." Colby started after the silence had stretched a little. He could see Don was tired but knew it was better if he stayed awake for the next half hour or so that it would take to get back to the office rather than sleep for such a short time and wake even more tired. "We were too late but in the roundup we located a kid."

"Which one?"

"A Ruiz Cubero. He's being interviewed now."

"Don't know the name."

"He said that they attacked you."

"They were after my father."

"That's what we figured."

"How is he?"

"Worried sick. He caught a flight back late last night and we brought him back to the office. He told us there'd been no problems with the community centre. What brought this on?"

"The kids didn't want to loose their hangout."

"You're kidding." It wasn't doubt, it was disbelief.

"Yeah."

He wasn't sure how he managed it but he was still awake when they finally arrived at the Field Office. The ride up in the elevator seemed to take forever. The doors opened to reveal Charlie and his father waiting in the lobby.

"Don!" Two voices spoke at once.

"Dad, Charlie." Don responded as he stepped out. He held up his hands as he tried to calm them down as they moved in.

"You're hurt!" Alan exclaimed reaching for his son's arms.

"I'm fine. It's nothing." He pulled his hands away, having inadvertently showed the cuts on his wrists.

"It doesn't look like nothing."

"Dad, I'm good. Really I am."

It took an hour for him to be patched up, Wright had insisted on paramedics attending to assess his injuries after his refusal to go to the hospital, and debriefed. He kept it brief, giving all the main details of what had happened over the past few hours. All he really wanted to do was go home, shower and sleep.

But first he had some arrangements to make, orders to give and contingency plans put in place. He wished he could leave it until later but Guerra's sudden disappearance made it all the more urgent. Tired minds did not make the job easy so it was another couple of hours later before he was ready to leave the Field Office.

At long last he stretched out on his own bed in his apartment. It hadn't been easy convincing his father and brother that he needed to be in his own space, especially when he didn't want to tell them why, that some gang-banger was likely targeting him and may come for him at any time. But eventually after some last assurances to his family that he was really okay they let it drop as he refused to budge.

Sleep wasn't long in coming despite the additional hardness of the Glock under his pillow.

* * *

It was almost a week later that his family finally learnt the truth of what was going on, a long week in which searches and raids conducted by both Lieutenant Walker's Gang Taskforce and the FBI had been fruitless. Sure they'd turned up caches of arms and drugs and locked away a good number of gang-bangers. The media and the public loved the sudden crackdown on gang activity. The message that threatening a cop was bad for business was well and truly being made.

But the one they were targeting was still in the wind, not a sniff of him anywhere. They had dug deeply into Guerra's life in an attempt to track his possible location and in the process confirmed the reason for the tattoo on his face. Guerra's brother, Arrio Jose Guerra had been killed during a drug raid by an FBI agent just over a month before. Arrio had fired at the agents with a shotgun and came out second best.

The phone call when it came almost caused his heart to stop.

"Don!" Charlie's anxious voice announced when he answered his cell. "I've called campus security. I think there are two people following me."

"Describe them." Don snapped as he grabbed his keys and headed for the elevator. A quick lift of his arm and David and Colby were right behind him. He wasn't taking any chances.

"Male and female, both in their late 20's." Charlie replied softly as if he didn't want to be overheard. Don later found out that he'd been hiding in his office while waiting for security to arrive. "He's blonde and she's dark. They're dressed like students but I've never seen them before a couple of days ago. Don, they've been in my classes and I'm sure now that they've been around wherever I've been."

Relieved, Don relaxed as the lift descended. His heart started beating again. "They're agents, Buddy."

"What?"

"Look, I'm on my way. I'll explain when we get there, alright?"

By the time the agents had made it to the math professor's office the room was a little crowded. The undercover agents had been challenged by security and were forced to identify themselves to prevent the situation from escalating. Campus security was naturally very jumpy when possibly armed strangers were loitering inside the grounds. Things had spiralled rapidly from there, the Dean was notified along with the chief of security. Charlie had rounded everything out by calling Alan who'd been attending a class at the time. All were waiting when Don and his reduced team turned up.

"I think you have some explaining to do." Alan started before his eldest son could even open his mouth.

Don held up his hands in an attempt to pacify the group of angry academics and security staff. Not to mention family. "Alright. I'm currently investigating some gang related activity and a threat has been made against me." He started his explanation for the campus staff, wanting to mollify them and have them on their way before he told the rest to his family.

The agent continued. "While I don't think that extends to my family their identity is quite well known and it was felt best to place some agents on them for their own security." He dialled a number and spoke briefly into his phone. A moment later two more agents dressed as students made their way into the room. They were assigned to Alan.

Alan realised this the moment they walked in and was a little disturbed that he hadn't even been aware he'd been followed. He opened his mouth to speak but the Dean was already responding to his son's explanation.

"That doesn't excuse placing armed agents on campus without notifying us. What if a student had noticed them?"

Don ran his expert eye over the four agents, even he found it difficult to spot their weapons. He doubted a student would have a clue that these 'students' were armed. The Dean did have a point however, normal procedure dictated that he should have been advised. "You're right. I should have contacted you but this needed to be kept as quiet as possible."

"I appreciate that. But in future I expect a notification or you will find your agents and their charges out on the sidewalk and barred from campus for the duration. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Sir." He received a sharp, angry nod from the Dean before he and campus security filed out.

Alan turned to his son. "What about you? Where are your guards if you've been threatened?"

Don glanced at David and Colby.

Alan grunted, he should have expected that. His son had come up with excuse after excuse all week to avoid visiting them. This was obviously why. "So what's the full story?"

The agent sighed and explained the situation around Guerra's blood debt and that he'd been marked as a likely target for the gang-banger's revenge, a threat that both he and bureau were taking very seriously.

.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

-100-1-10110-1001-100-

"What did your informant tell you?" His boss demanded again.

David licked his lips in irritation as he looked around the all hours sidewalk café. It was Saturday night and the place was crowed. He faced Don. "He said that if we wanted to find Guerra we should come here at eleven o'clock."

Don glanced pointedly at his watch. It was a good twenty minutes after that. It was also late and he was tired. Non-stop raids really took it out of a person what with the early mornings followed by long days of paperwork. "Give it another ten then we're out of here. Early start tomorrow."

"Yeah." David agreed, Don wasn't the only one who was tired, they all were. Colby just sat nodding his agreement over his coffee, a double-shot espresso. Surely something would have to give soon. With all the pressure they were putting on the gangs, especially the 18th Street Mexicalis he had expected someone to give up Guerra long before now. This tip sounded good, especially coming from this particular informant. He was prepared to stay here all night if it resulted in something, but his comfortable bed also waited for him and he would leave without protest when his boss decided to call it a bust.

The screech of tires was close, too close. Looking up in alarm David saw the out of control car sliding sideways towards the tables and chairs near where they were sitting. There were shouts and screams as people started scattering, trying to clamber out of the vehicle's path. The three agents were no different, scrambling to their feet and moving away. He saw Don stop momentarily to grab at a woman who had tangled her handbag in her chair. His boss sent the woman flying with a shove just as the car mounted the curb and ploughed into the chairs and tables close to where they'd just been.

Then everything stopped for a moment, silent except for the ticking of the car as it cooled and the clattering of plates and cups as they rolled to a stop on the sidewalk. Then the screams started, not everyone had been quick enough to escape the path of the car.

"David, Colby, get in there." Don ordered. "I'll call it in."

Colby moved, but David hesitated a moment. He had another duty. "Don-"

"David, move it."

Don already had his phone out and had pressed a speed dial. He was moving away a few yards to quieten the panicked screams and shouts as he made the call. There was to be no argument. David nodded and raced to help Colby.

Time ceased it's regular flow. All David would remember of the next few minutes were the faces of the people he was trying to help and that every time he looked up there were more emergency services surrounding them. At first it was just them, then a pair of LAPD officers, then some EMTs and next a crew from the LA fire department using equipment to prise the car off the trapped man. At the end they were surrounded by emergency vehicles, strobe and spotlights illuminating the scene. He never heard a single siren.

Finally things calmed, time resumed it's normal passage and sound returned. The trapped man had been pulled from under the car and was being loaded into an ambulance as he watched. The other seriously wounded were already on their way to the nearest hospital while others were being treated at the scene for minor scrapes and bruises. The driver of the car was being searched for by the LAPD, having ran from the scene moments after the vehicle had come to rest. All they knew was that he was black or Hispanic and wearing dark clothes. Not a lot to go on in LA.

"Hey, David. You alright man?" Colby suddenly asked at his shoulder.

David realised he'd just zoned out. Snapping back to it he turned to his partner. "Yeah. You?"

"I'm good."

At the familiar expression David suddenly realised something, someone was missing. "Where's Don?"

Colby looked a little bewildered. He turned back to where Don had been an eternity ago. "He's over there…" His voice trailed off as he realised there was no-one 'over there'. That patch of sidewalk was empty.

"Oh, no." David ran the few yards to where he'd last seen Don. He started tossing chairs aside, working his way towards the plastic tape set up by the LAPD to prevent access to the scene. He spied something resting on the ground and picked it up.

Colby's voice was quiet as he stared at the familiar object. "His cell."

David flipped it over to check and saw the number engraved on the back, the internal FBI equipment number. "Yep."

They were standing at the end of the alleyway they'd cleared on their arrival. It was obvious what had happened. David suddenly doubted that the accident was an accident. It could have been a diversion aimed at separating them from their boss. It was too late, Don and his attacker would be long gone, unless… He'd heard no shot, but with the auditory exclusion during the panic over the accident he might have missed it. There were also quieter ways to kill a man than using a firearm.

At David's yell the LAPD supervisor came running over. After a quick explanation a number of uniforms followed the two agents down the alleyway, guns drawn, searching for the missing agent. Other units were called in to start sweeping the neighbourhood. The alley was cleared in short order, no agent, no blood or signs of struggle.

"Make the call." David ordered. They were standing at the end of the alley on the next street over.

Colby nodded and dialled.

-100-1111-1110-

"_Rolling EMTs and LAPD, Agent Eppes."_ The Control operator responded.

Don snapped his phone closed and started to put it into the holder on his belt as he took a step towards the rapidly unfolding chaos of the accident scene. David and Colby were already in the thick of it, clearing debris from around the vehicle and attempting to organise bystanders to help.

"Hello, Fed."

He couldn't fail to recognise that voice. The agent spun, right hand reaching for his holster. There was the flash of something moving rapidly towards his head. Automatically he reached upwards with his left arm, attempting to block whatever it was. The impact with his forearm was solid causing him to stagger back a half step, his arm dropping back to his side numbed by the blow. His right hand was on the grip of his Glock starting to draw it from the holster but it was too late, the baseball bat was swinging back. He tried to duck but this time the weapon connected with its intended target.

_He'd been here before_, was his first thought as he came to. The pounding in his head and the cold concrete under his body were only too familiar. This time he was face down, inhaling dust as his face was pressed against the floor. He sneezed and instantly regretted it, it felt like he'd blown the side of his head off. He groaned, his right hand coming up to rub at the side of his head. Abruptly memory returned and he saw the flash of the baseball bat as it swung at his unprotected head. He also remembered the face behind the bat, Guerra.

He got his right arm flat on the ground near his shoulder and was attempting to make his left do the same so he could push himself up when a sudden weight descended on his back between his shoulder blades. Another sudden increase in pressure forced some air from his lungs along with another grunt.

"Hello, Fed." Guerra repeated. "Wakey, wakey."

Something rocked him back and forth, rubbing painfully across his back. There was the sound of wood hitting concrete. Don managed to get his eyes open and saw the end of the baseball bat resting on the concrete inches from his face. There was last hard shove at his back before the weight was removed. He realised that Guerra had been leaning on him with a foot as it settled back to the floor next to the bat. Taking a breath he gave up on pushing himself up, his left arm was still numb below the elbow and useless. Instead he managed to roll over onto his back so that he could finally see his assailant.

Guerra was standing calmly, watching as the fed looked up at him from flat on his back. Once again he saw no fear in those dark eyes, just calculation as he tried to figure a way out of his situation. He smiled down at the helpless man at his feet, prodding him sharply in the chest with the bat. He was enjoying his moment of power, just as he would enjoy what he planned next. "This worked so well for the kids, I thought I'd give it a go."

Don held his tongue as Guerra poked him once more with the business end of the bat. _So this was how the gang-banger planned to take him out, beat him to death with a lump of wood?_ But Guerra abruptly took a step back and made no further move, seeming to be waiting for something. The agent cautiously sat up and still there was no reaction. Knowing it was futile he swept his right hand over his holster anyway and found it empty as expected. All of their planning and contingencies had failed, he was here alone with the gang-banger. Unarmed and injured there would be only one likely outcome. He had to play for time. Gathering his feet under him he faced Guerra's smile as he stood.

"You don't think I'm that stupid, do you?" Guerra asked in amusement. _As if he would forget the fed's gun!_ He raised the hem of his loose overshirt revealing two weapons tucked into the waistband of his jeans. The fed's Glock and his own trusty .45.

Ignoring the comment and the weapons Guerra was making no move to use Don looked around and recognised the warehouse he'd spent so many hours in a week or so ago. It was the same warehouse that Chief, real name Mark Carrera, and the other kids had held him at. The old sofas and skateboard ramps were gone but support pillar nearby looked very familiar and sure enough there was the ring in the concrete to which he'd been tethered. As expected there was no-one else in sight. He was surprised though at Guerra's choice of killing ground, he would have expected somewhere deep inside Mexicali territory, not out here in Rialto. It gave him an angle.

"Couldn't figure out how to do it yourself, huh?" Don taunted as he faced the gang-banger again. Satisfied with the tightening expression on the other's face Don pushed. "Needed a bunch of kids to show you the way."

Guerra swore and exploded into action. He charged at the agent, bat swinging wildly. Don ducked and sidestepped, landing a punch on Guerra's ribs. He spun away but the bat struck him solidly between the shoulder blades sending him stumbling as his back arched in pain. Regaining his balance he turned back in time to duck a swing aimed at separating his head from his shoulders in what would have been a home run if it had connected. Guerra was not holding back, his face contorted in rage. Don managed another punch before the bat forced him away again.

Guerra pressed his advantage, forcing the agent back a few steps before winding up for another wild swing. Don ducked under it and moved in, this time reaching for the guns at the gang-banger's belt. If he could reach one this would be all over. But Guerra twisted at the last moment and was able to shove the agent away.

"I thought they trained you lot better than that." Guerra jeered, grinning as the agent scrambled back to his feet after having tripped. He closed in jabbing at him with the baseball bat as if it were a fencing foil.

Don backed away and circled, the two men catching their breath while they had the opportunity. All this ducking and weaving was not helping Don's concussion. Guerra had hit him somewhat harder than the kids had. His equilibrium was thrown off and he was feeling decidedly unwell. This last fall had badly jarred his left shoulder as he been unable to break his fall in time, his left arm effectively useless. But that was nothing compared to what would happen when Guerra got really serious. The rage was dissipating, which was not good for him. He had to keep the man off balance, keep him angry and not thinking.

It all came down to how long he'd been out and how long it was going to take. He could still feel the uncomfortable lump at the rear of his belt which gave him cause for hope.

"Who taught you to swing a bat like that, a two year old girl?"

Guerra growled and started to pull the bat back, ready to show exactly what he could do with the weapon when he noticed something in the other's expression. He controlled himself, jabbing again at the fed to keep him back. He had suddenly twigged to the man's ploy. His lips curled back from his teeth as he backed up a few steps to give himself some room. It was time to finish what he'd come to do. He was rewarded with the brief look of uncertainty that crossed the fed's face; the agent was starting to suspect that his plan had gone south. Now Guerra might get to see what he wanted, what he'd hoped for last time he was here. He tossed the bat aside, well out of the fed's reach and reached for a gun at his waist.

"How's it feel, Fed? Gonna be shot with your own gun." He levelled the Glock at his intended victim's head.

_And yes, there it was!_ An ever so brief flash of fear as the fed realised that everything was over. It was gone again so very quickly but he was sure he'd seen it. He decided he wanted to see it again before he put the man down for good. He held off pulling the trigger that was tantalisingly firm under his finger.

Don saw that the slack had been taken up on the trigger. He knew exactly how much pressure Guerra needed to apply to make the gun go off. Any move on his part now and it would all be over. He'd seen the result often enough to know what was about to happen. The law enforcement ammunition would make a mess of him, the rounds designed to fragment on entering a body. Time had run out. He braced himself.

"Your gun, my gun, not really gonna make a difference."

"Oh, I think so." The gang-banger smirked. He stepped closer, jerking the gun down. "On your knees."

The fed's eyes flicked around, desperately searching for a way out and finding nothing. Guerra's grin widened as the man slowly lowered himself to his knees. He moved in, one step at a time so he could enjoy the emotions that flickered over the fed's face as the moment of execution came closer. Abruptly he realised that he was almost in grabbing range and that the fed's face had taken on a watchful air, waiting for the time to strike.

"Uh, uh." Guerra shook his head as he stopped out of range. He altered his aim slightly so the fed could look down the barrel from which his death was about to be dealt. "Hands behind your back."

Another reward as the man's breath caught and fear once again flashed over his face, his last hope gone. The hands moved slowly until they were clasped together behind his back. After one final look at the fed's face to fix this last expression into his mind he stepped behind him. He was going to do this right, execution style. He jabbed the gun forward hard, pressing it firmly against the back of his victim's head. He wanted the fed to feel everything.

"Arrio, this one is for you." Guerra said his prayer, dedicating his kill as his finger started to tighten.

The next sound was a gunshot, echoing through the abandoned warehouse. A body fell lifeless to the cold concrete.

.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

-100-1-10110-1001-100-

The agent lay still on his side, pale and unmoving. There was blood splattered on his head and pooling beside him on the concrete.

"Oh, no. Don!"

David reached out and shook his boss' shoulder. _This wasn't what it looked like. It couldn't be. They'd been in time. _He glanced over at the other body barely two feet away where it had landed after they'd pulled him off Don. Guerra was clearly dead, the gunshot wound through the base of his skull confirmed that. There could have been no reflex shot, the FBI SWAT sniper had aimed to completely immobilise the gangster's body at the moment of death.

"Don!" He shook his boss' shoulder again and this time received a moan. "That's it, Don. Come back to us."

"D-David?" Don managed as he tried to move.

The voice was weak but David had never been happier. This one had been too close. When they'd realised Don had been taken and he no longer had the cell phone with which to locate him they'd resorted to the tracking device he'd been wearing all week. The unit attached to the inside of Don's belt was smaller and its transmitter correspondingly weaker than a cell phone making the process to trace it harder than they'd liked. It was also much further away than they'd expected, all the way out here in Rialto rather than closer in somewhere in Mexicali territory. The signal had been almost non-existent when they had finally detected it. More time was needed to be sure of the correct direction. That delay had so very nearly cost Don's life.

"We're here, Don." David answered. "We got Guerra."

Don relaxed, slumping back to the floor. "Good."

"Don?" The body under his hands had gone completely limp.

Alarmed he checked for breathing and found it shallow but steady, the pulse strong. He took his own deep breath in relief. He glanced around and waved his arm at the paramedics who were running into the warehouse, having finally been given the all clear. As he waited he looked his boss over for injuries and saw the dried blood and matted hair on the side of Don's head. He figured on concussion from an earlier injury when he'd been taken and knew that the impact of Guerra's body forcing Don to the concrete hadn't helped any. The developing bruise he could see on Don's forehead suggested he'd hit the ground with his head as a result.

The paramedics were concerned but not unduly alarmed given their patient's vitals. They efficiently checked the injured agent over before loading him up on the gurney brought in by some other agents. As they headed out one gave a quick run down to David on his condition.

"Thanks. I'll call his family and have them head over to the hospital." David wasn't looking forward to that, Alan and Charlie didn't even know that Don had been missing for the last two hours. But at least it was all over now, Don was safe and Guerra no longer a threat.

-100-1111-1110-

This time when Don woke his head was throbbing dully and the surface underneath him was comfortable and soft, definitely not concrete for a change. The air was cool and dry and the light against his eyelids was muted. The space he was in felt smaller, like a room, and it was quiet but he could hear the hustle and bustle of people moving about. His eyes didn't want to open but that was alright. He lay there for a while enjoying the peace before his mind, unbidden, replayed those last few moments in the warehouse.

He remembered his own gun being jabbed into the back of his head as he waited on his knees for Guerra to pull the trigger. Despite his final words, it had mattered deeply that it was going to be his own weapon used against him. It was a final insult that he could do nothing about. There was no sign of his team and he'd known there was no way out of this for him. The gang-banger had won and was about to take his reward.

As Guerra spoke his words to his dead brother, Arrio, Don had made his own silent prayer asking God to allow him to be with his mother in the afterlife. There had been the gunshot and the shock of the sudden dead weight that had fallen on his back forcing him to the ground. Then David had been there and he'd known he was safe. He sighed deeply as the feeling of intense relief again washed over him. He'd had some close scrapes in his time but this had been way too close.

"Donny?"

"Dad?" He finally managed to get his eyes to open revealing his father hovering over him.

"Yes, son." Alan answered. "You're at the hospital and the doctors say you're going to be fine."

"Don't feel so fine." His admitted. His head still hurt and he could feel a dull ache in his left arm along with soreness across his back. He saw the drip attached to the back of his right hand and knew he was also on some pain relieving medication.

"They say you have moderate concussion, a fractured left ulna, soft tissue damage to your left shoulder, severe bruising to your back and some other assorted contusions. But I guess you would know that." Alan finished as his son simply nodded at the list.

"I was there." It was an attempt at humour.

"Yes, you were."

Humour that had fallen flat. "Dad, I'm okay."

"I know that, but it could so easily have been different."

"David told you."

"How could he not? You were almost shot, they barely got there in time."

"But they did get there." The argument wasn't helping his headache any.

"This time."

"Dad," he protested.

"Alright, son. I'm sorry. We were just so worried about you. Charlie was nearly in shock when he heard."

That in turn worried him. He peered around the room but couldn't see his brother. "Where is he?"

"Not in the garage at his blackboards." Alan responded in relief. Charlie had reacted badly to this latest incident of a weapon being pointed at his older brother when he'd been told just how close it had been, but was no longer in danger of returning to P v NP like he'd done a few years ago. He'd grown so much since then. "He's gone to get Amita and he'll be back with her soon."

By the time Charlie returned he was feeling very tired and was struggling to keep his eyes open. He managed to give his own version of what had happened before he was too tired to continue. They left him to get some sleep, promising to return in the morning.

The next morning he awoke feeling much better, the aches and pains less. He put the hard word on the doctor but the man stood his ground and strongly recommended that he stay for another day before going home. He complained to his father when he arrived with Charlie as soon as visiting hours started but didn't get the sympathetic ear he'd been hoping for.

"If the doctor says that's for the best then that's the way it is."

"I can't lay about here forever, there's work that needs doing."

"Work?" Alan spluttered. "But you said it's all over. That man is dead so there is no more threat."

"That's true. But we still have valid warrants and-"

"Don," Alan interrupted firmly. "You've done enough for one week. If there are more warrants then fine, let your agents handle it. You need to rest."

"That's not-"

"Fair?" Alan took the word right out of his eldest's mouth. He returned to the interrupted argument from the night before. "What's 'not fair' is you trying to go this alone and nearly getting yourself shot."

"I didn't plan this and I wasn't going it alone." Don argued back, deliberately misunderstanding Alan's true meaning that he hadn't told his family everything until the day before and had refused to let them help him, instead keeping them safely at arms length. "We had tried to work everything so this couldn't happen. We didn't expect him to have a car driven into a crowd of people as a distraction."

David had updated him on that a short time ago, visiting before the official hours. They'd identified the driver of the car from some ATM surveillance footage near the scene. The man had been found and interviewed overnight during which he revealed being paid to drive into the crowd, avoiding the agents that had been pointed out to him. Guerra had set the whole thing up, the tip to draw his target there, the car, everything. The driver had nearly killed one man and had seriously injured several other people all for a baggie of heroin. Don hoped that the withdrawal he was about to experience while he waited in a holding facility for court was long and painful. The low value some people put on human life still shocked him at times. Guerra had risked a crowd of people just to go after him.

"I suppose not." Alan allowed. "But you were there looking for him, weren't you? He'd made a threat against you but you still turned up expecting that he might be there."

"Of course, Dad. That's my job. We've been trying to find him all week. We couldn't pass it up."

"Well, you're going to pass on those last few warrants. The doctor's not letting you out for another day anyway."

"I know." He raised his right hand but dropped it, unable rub his face like he wanted with the monitor attached to his middle finger. His left was in a cast. "It's just frustrating, you know."

Charlie finally felt it safe to butt in. Alan had been upset the night before on the drive home and he'd expected the argument to continue this morning. "We know, Don. But you don't have to push this one any more. Dad's right, let someone else finish the raids. You have to follow your own orders."

"Huh?"

"I just spoke to David on the way in. He told me you'd insisted he and Colby take a couple of days."

"Oh." The argument was lost. Not only had he worked just as hard as Colby and David over the last week, he'd also been seriously assaulted. Twice.

Without a comeback to his brother's point, Don lay back on the comfortable bed, wincing slightly at the pressure on the bruise across his back and decided that he really could use the rest. Besides, the paperwork from the last week had been horrendous and there was more waiting to be completed. That work he could happily avoid for a while.

END

_A/N: Thanks once again to all those who read and especially to all those who reviewed, your comments are very much appreciated and I find them motivational. There is another in the works. Stay tuned…_


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